Wild One
by JabberjayHeart
Summary: "This isn't a year for weak tributes with no hope; this is a year full of fighters with fire in their eyes and clenched fists ready to attack." Welcome to the 105th Hunger Games!
1. Animal Part One

**Animal; Part One.**

_And I won't be denied by you, the animal inside of you._

* * *

**Wild One - 105th Hunger Games.**

**Head Gamemaker Knightley Knox.**

* * *

The alarm clock buzzes softly in the background, a constant, droning sound that eventually pulls me from my sleep. It takes a while to actually blink away the dreams and dust in my eyes, tossing over to face my wife. Ellery stares at me fondly, having awoke alongside me.

"Morning sweetheart," Ellery kisses my cheek. "I take it you wanted to get up early?"

"Today's the day I show the President the new arena for this year. I wanted to get in a little early and make sure that Clyde has everything sorted properly before Esmeralda arrives."

"Everything will be fine, you know it will. You've been doing this job for three years now."

I, Knightley Knox, have been Head Gamemaker for the longest term Esmeralda Snow has been in power. When she came in, her first Games being the Ninety-Eighth. Up to the Quarter Quell, she had a Head Gamemaker every year, constantly switching them out. Then, Lilia Short, whom I worked under, lasted but two years, the Quarter Quell and the Ninety-Ninth. She was dismissed after performing a magnificent Quarter Quell. Then, the job was thrusted upon her second-in-command, Ophelia Hyriett, who, like Lilia, lasted two years. The job was then handed to me, and since then, I've apparently never failed, seeing as this is my third term, longer than both Lilia and Ophelia. Clearly there is something about me that Esmeralda admires.

"I know," I say, climbing out of bed. "It's something that you can never shake."

"Don't be so melodramatic, Knightley."

I smile at my wife, opening our bathroom door. "No idea what you're on about."

All year I've prepared for this arena. Esmeralda has always liked unique arenas. Forests, tundras and deserts have been so overused. This year, I planned big, and that was what Clyde was for. Clyde is specifically Head of Muttations. I needed him this year to really jazz up my arena plans. I flick the light on, get washed and changed, sliding into my suit and gelling back my amber hair. When I walk back out, Ellery is sat on the edge of the bed, our daughter, Tiara, sat in her lap.

"Someone wants to come to work with you." Ellery smiles and Tiara just grins.

"You know I would," I frown. "But with the presentation, I doubt Esmeralda will like Tiara being there. I can't get caught out."

Tears brim in the corners of Tiara's eyes and my heart wrenches. For Tiara, I would do anything. I would give my life for her. She's a bright, spunky six year old that looks like her mother but with my coloured hair. And just like me, Tiara is creative. In fact, she helped inspire me for the arena this year by a crayon drawing. Tiara's arms sweep open and I can't help but scoop her up.

"I suppose so. I could always get Helena to look after you if things get hectic, as long as I can hide her."

Ellery kisses us both goodbye as she heads into the bathroom. I take Tiara to the kitchen, grabbing some toast and an apple for the journey to the Gamemakers lounge. Before the presentation, we'll all meet and clarify everything. Then, someone will bring in Esmeralda and she'll proceed to give her verdict. The arena hasn't been fully built since the Games are around two months away. After we've ate our breakfasts, I load Tiara into her buggy and begin the tiresome walk to work.

* * *

"Knightley, today of all days?" Helena whispers so that Tiara doesn't hear her.

"I couldn't help it," I whisper back. "Her eyes are just so damn big."

"That'll be your downfall, you know."

"I know," I smirk. "But for now, please, look after her until after the presentation?"

Helena grumbles something but takes the handles of the buggy and begins pushing her towards her small office. Helena is another Gamemaker like us, but usually, she's the Gamemaker to project the faces onto the sky. For now, she can wait and relax. I smile as they disappear behind the door, when someone thumps into me.

I stagger back a bit, staring as Clyde scoops up the papers and tilts his glasses. "Sorry..."

"Clyde, just the man I wanted to see," I say, ignoring his apology. He has nothing to say sorry for. "How are the mutts coming along?"

"We've created them all now," Clyde nods furiously. "Each one has been finalised and altered for specific purposes. But, we stuck to the drawing you gave us."

"My daughter drew that you know. She's only six." I grin proudly.

"So you've said," Clyde nods again. "Are you ready for the presentation?"

"But I wanted to give the arena one more look over and make sur-"

"President Snow has already arrived." Clyde cuts in.

No-one can deny the icy feeling that targets your body when you think of President Esmeralda Snow. Like her namesake, she's a cold, sociopathic woman. And like her grandfather, she strikes fear into everyone's hearts. Her father was much more kind; not that kind, it must be the last name, but much more reserved and striking than evil. Clyde flounders for a moment, shuffling the papers before he hands me a few and leads me to the Gamemakers' Room.

Esmeralda Snow sits in her seat, white curls cascading down her body and white dress flowing to the floor. She turns her head and ice cold orbs find my own.

"Knightley. What a pleasure it is to see you again."

"President Snow," I bow courteously. "I presume you would like to see the arena?"

"I wasn't visiting for memories, Knightley, so yes, I would like to see the arena if you would please."

I nod once more and walk across the room, the other Gamemakers all sitting quietly at their seats, staring at their individual screens and tapping away solemnly. I motion for Clyde to come down and join me, and after a brief moment, he does, still looking as flustered as ever, the wad of papers folded into his hand.

I look to Clyde who looks onto a Gamemaker that presses the button. The hologram drifts in mid-air, rotating slightly, an ice blue.

"This year, we decided to bend everything that has ever happened," I start, directing to the hologram. Esmeralda follows with deadly eyes, nodding stiffly for me to carry on. "Most years are either outdoor arenas that are based on survival alone or Gamemaker playgrounds, filled with deadly traps hidden around every corner. However, to my knowledge, we've never had an arena like this."

"And what exactly is this?"

"It's a game reserve," I force out around the lump in my throat. "Game reserves are known for being vast grassland, with hot weather, many hills and slopes, rockery, shrubs and spaced trees. Our tributes will start off here, around the Cornucopia, with the rest of the arena behind them and around them. Now, game reserves are ecosystems and protected. Everything is natural but watched; that is our idea this year. For our Gamemakers to watch, but not intervene unless completely necessary."

"And what is your goal for this?"

"To be unique," I choke once more. "Most years, Gamemakers throw in tricks and services to influence our tributes. This year, it won't happen. Everything will be down to our tributes and our guests. Gamemakers will only intervene if completely and utterly necessary."

Esmeralda studies the hologram, and slowly, with a flick of my hand, it descends downwards.

"Continue."

"Thank you," I mutter under my breath. "As I said, our goal is to allow _everything_ that will happen to be caused and directed by our tributes. Of course, I also said our guests. Clyde?"

Clyde steps forward, placing some pieces of paper onto the table. "Madame President, these are our guests. Mutts."

"Game reserves are home to actual game and their predators. We thought there was no point in taking the reality away from the actuality. We created a dozen or so Mutts, all different with special twists and turns to them, that will find their home based in the arena."

"This one here is based on a rhinoceros," Clyde mumbles, pointing to one. "And this one here is based on a lion."

A small, hidden smile forms on her face.

"Our aim was simple; our tributes are nothing more than game, so why not make it obvious to them? They will simply become _another_ factor to the ever-growing food chain in our game reserve."

* * *

**Backstory.**

* * *

When the 74th Hunger Games came around, a girl named Katniss Everdeen from District Twelve, volunteered herself for her younger sister. On a journey of self-preservation, Katniss Everdeen and her district partner, Peeta Mellark, became known as the star-crossed couple, doomed to die as only one can survive.

They broke these rules.

Katniss Everdeen, the driving force of the pair, had unknowingly became the face of a rebellion, hidden away under the depths of despair throughout the districts. Victors from the past joined forces in order to permanently remove the Hunger Games and execute President Coriolanus Snow.

The 75th Games, a Quarter Quell, saw many old faces go back into the arena to fight once more, claiming the title as Victor among Victors. Katniss and Peeta went back in alongside some famous Victors; Cashmere and Gloss Arvoy, sibling Victors from District One, Enobaria Nasica, a gold-tipped tooth monster from District Two, Finnick Odair, the beautiful boy from District Four and many more. Without Katniss' knowledge, out of the surviving 50 Victors including herself and Peeta, many were behind her cause and many were in the arena with her.

The plan was simple; blow the arena up with the help of Beetee Chambers from District Three.

They never planned on Enobaria Nasica, a Victor **not** within the cause, to kill Beetee before the genius could master his plan. Hell broke loose and the plan soon floundered. Brutus Steiner of District Two murdered Chaff Barnwood of District Eleven. Peeta then murdered Brutus whilst Enobaria murdered Johanna Mason from District Seven. Finnick managed to overpower and kill Enobaria in the ensuing fight. This left the three that had become the faces of the Capitol and rebellion.

Finnick Odair - overcome with both madness and a drive to see his girlfriend, Annie Cresta and their unborn child - plunged his trident into Katniss Everdeen, killing the Girl on Fire almost instantly. Peeta, losing his love, fought and killed Finnick. He was deemed the winner, but of what?

The aftermath was simple.

Everyone knew that President Snow had rigged the Quell to crush the flames of a growing rebellion.

And with the face of the rebellion dead, it became too easy.

President Snow started what became known as the great **Victor's Purge**, where the remaining Victors that weren't sentenced into the arena, were killed in order to avoid treason against the President.

50 Victors became 27 through the deaths in the arena; 17 Victors were then executed through the threat of joining the rebellion or restarting, leaving only a handful of 10 Victors alive. Nobody knows why these 10 were spared - it could have been another act of the Capitol and President Snow's control. It could have been a way to restrain the districts. It could have been them not being involved, or it simply could have been a way to torture them with seeing the Games continue.

Annie Cresta of District Four and Haymitch Abernathy from District Twelve were two of the ten spared. Annie was more so deranged, but managed to live a peaceful life with her newborn son, Finnick Jr. She was often spared for her state of mentality. Haymitch Abernathy was speculated to have been spared in order to retain the head of rebellion responsible. His crime? More innocent children's death on his hands.

Peeta Mellark became the Victor of Victors, and so, was also spared. The other seven Victors became famous, their names previously unheard of.

The Hunger Games continued.

* * *

**Aftermath.**

* * *

Coriolanus Snow died around the 80th Hunger Games through old age. His child, Juniper Snow, took control as President through his wish. Eventually, the post was pasted down once more to Coriolanus' granddaughter, Esmeralda Snow, who took presidency during the 98th Hunger Games at age 30.

Haymitch Abernathy drunk himself to death during the 92nd Hunger Games.

Annie Cresta lived quietly and happily, mourning Finnick and treasuring his son - she held him tight, fearful that one day, he might be ripped away.

9 Victors lucky enough to see the rebellion start and fail are still alive, saved from execution.

* * *

**All tributes have been collected, and we got a great bunch!**

**For anyone whose interested, the blog to this story is _wildonehungergames . blogspot . com_ - all deaths will be notified here, so please, only look if you don't mind spoilers!**


	2. Animal Part Two

**Animal; Part Two.**

_And I won't be denied by you, the animal inside of you._

* * *

**Wild One - 105th Hunger Games.**

**Head Gamemaker Knightley Knox.**

* * *

I try to lower my breathing as Esmeralda Snow glares at my hologram. If it was alive, well, it wouldn't be now. Clyde shuffles away the papers, but Esmeralda jabs her hand down swiftly on one particular drawing. Everyone holds their breath as she slides it out and picks it up with nimble fingers. She hums slowly as she stares at it.

"What is this one based off?"

Clyde takes a quick look before coughing to clear his throat. "That... that is based off of an elephant."

"I see," Esmeralda ponders for a moment. "Can I ask where the inspiration for these creatures came from?"

Clyde looks at me from over his shoulder, and I instantly know I have to tell the truth. If I don't, and despite no actual problem with where the inspiration rooted from, she will definitely kill me and then my family. That's a must; lying to the President is always the worse thing you could ever do. I only ever took this job so that I could afford a better life for me and my family. I wanted Tiara to grow up, knowing that she could be whatever she wanted, no matter the risks. To get that future for her, well, it lead me to this.

"M-My daughter, Tiara, she had them created. She didn't mean to. One day, she was just drawing, a-and these came from it. It became the roots of my inspiration for the arena."

Esmeralda hums in agreement, eyes never leaving the picture. "Your daughter is very much talented, I'll give you that Knightley. She'll make a fine Gamemaker one day."

I just nod furiously, the fear taking over. I never would want my daughter to be dragged into something like this. Not to be involved with Esmeralda. She slowly hands the picture back to Clyde, who sweeps it from her hand and skitters away, back to my side. She finally allows her eyes to flick up to us, and when I see them, a smirk forms on her face.

"It sounds fantastic. Now, these Mutts, when do you plan on placing them within the arena?"

"Exactly two months before the reapings happen," I quickly answer. "We decided that since the whole idea of a game reserve is to watch and protect, but not interfere, we thought that the better choice would be to distribute them early on, allow the Mutts to adapt, and then, they will take territories and homes around the vast land. Since they are based on animals, their natural instinct is to protect their young and homes, as well as hunt for food. Our tributes won't understand this, when, say, they walk onto grassland and find it's the home or a large group of elephants, carnivorous and hungry."

Esmeralda nods.

"We have a variety of species, as I mentioned, and a dozen or so will be made of each. Since the arena is large, it will hold them all as well as "safe zones", areas that aren't taken by a Mutt or roamed by one, usually out in the open, though. They will be able to fight with each other, kill each other, and stalk. Everything a normal animal would do, and all before our tributes are placed out there. Life would have been set up before our tributes are even reaped."

"This sounds rather impressive, Knightley, I applaud you for it."

"Thank y-"

I'm cut off when the familiar mechanical sound of a door slides open. My heart races when I see Tiara, small and cherub-like, looking at me and smiling widely. Helena appears behind, flustered pink. Tiara grins and begins to run into the room, right past Esmeralda.

"I take it this is your daughter?" Esmeralda asks, voice laced with cruelty.

I scoop Tiara up protectively when she's near, fighting the urge to look composed rather than hysterical. "Y-Yes, this is Tiara."

Esmeralda smiles fondly, but there's something else there, and everyone can tell. It's a fond smile but layered with a predator's teeth. Her eyes narrow down and seem almost mockingly. I blink away the shock and continue to hold Tiara close to me.

"Well then, I'll leave you to building and your "distributing", Knightley," Esmeralda stands and grins wickedly. "Just remember this though. If something goes wrong, well, it won't be just _your_ fault. Understand?"

She says it in a way I understand perfectly. Her eyes glimpse to Tiara, cradled in my arms, and I already know. I know it so well and every part of my body just feels like it's being weighed down, heavy and hardened. If I fail, I won't be the only one to die.

She'll kill my daughter too.

I clutch onto Tiara far too tight as she slips through the door quietly and elegantly. Clyde coughs and I turn around, my body rigged and tight, my nerves ready to burst. He sympathetically points to the stack of papers on the table where Esmeralda sat. I move over, placing Tiara down, although I keep her fingers laced through mine. On the table sits twenty-four pictures, labelled and stated.

"And these are..."

"The mentors she wants for the tributes," one of the unknown Gamemakers says absently. "She's being awfully picky this year. Wouldn't be surprised if the tributes aren't already decided and the bowls are rigged. Actually, come to think of it, she did mention about certain districts needing better tributes. Could have some fixes, you know."

A lot of the other Gamemakers around him edge their seats away at his flippant attitude. He doesn't realise his life could be taken in the snap of his fingers for his words against her. I nod, a frightening clench around my heart, almost like Esmeralda's nails teasing my most vital organ, waiting for me to slip so they can dagger through my heart and kill me so swiftly. She was never this obvious before, but clearly, my time as Head Gamemaker is running out.

* * *

**Expect the reapings in about a week or so, and hopefully, one update a week should go to plan to get through pre-Games!**

**Here, however, are your tributes for this wonderful story and underneath, information and such;**

* * *

**List Of Tributes.**

**District One - Luxury.**

Male: Kit Felix, 16.

Female: Fawn Asprey, 18.

**District Two - Masonry.**

Male: Ransom Denvir, 17.

Female: Minerva Li, 18.

**District Three - Technology.**

Male: Terris Avar, 14.

Female: Nova Watts, 13.

**District Four - Fishing.**

Male: Percival Harlin, 17.

Female: Odette Leith, 17.

**District Five - Power.**

Male: Stellan Kingsley, 18.

Female: India Cross, 15.

**District Six - Transportation.**

Male: Theon Sykes, 18.

Female: Justice Florence, 15.

**District Seven - Lumber.**

Male: Ewan Cole, 16.

Female: Laurel Aston, 14.

**District Eight - Textiles.**

Male: Anubis Cotton, 18.

Female: Challis Glenley, 16.

**District Nine - Grain.**

Male: Quinlan Nour, 15.

Female: Fay Amaris, 15.

**District Ten - Livestock.**

Male: Ezra Zinnia, 16.

Female: Serena Pierce, 16.

**District Eleven - Agriculture.**

Male: Bracken Mathis, 16.

Female: Lena Romero, 17.

**District Twelve - Coal.**

Male: Colton Dacanay, 15.

Female: Katerine "Katey" Holloway, 17.

* * *

******Animal by Neon Trees.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_Who are your favourite six tributes from just a simple, first impression look at the blog?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Here's the plan for those who don't know my layout.**

**- Reapings in one whole chapter, twelve POV's to cover the twelve districts (usually done from a third POV).**

**- Pre-Games will be four chapters, split into twelve POV's in a chapter (one tribute from each district) so each tribute gets limelight twice. This will cover chariots, interviews, scores, training, alliances and launch. Scores and alliances will be added to the blog during this time.**

**- Twelve arena chapters, including bloodbath and the final battle.**

**- One final chapter that covers replay and Victor's Interview.**

**There you go for those who don't know. For now, please check out the blog and look at the competitors. Reapings will be here between five days to a week, depending on how easy some of them are! A review is always appreciated. :')**

**I would just ask that all submitters review this chapter, just so I know whose been reading, waiting, and who hasn't, sorta thing, and that you've checked the blog out (or haven't, if you've had trouble) and are happy with the way your tribute looks and that! It's more of my own nerves, kinda thing, since it's been a while... *awkward laugh***


	3. Underdog

**Underdog.**

_Hey, that sounds like my luck. I get the short end of it._

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Fredrico of District One.**

* * *

The door opens, revealing Augustus Kingston, and everyone in the room but me straightens up. We've only been waiting for the man for over an hour now. He's always been known for being fashionably late; that's why he's not really allowed to mentor anymore. He's only doing it this year because the other mentor, Diamond Hanley, had a relapse in his therapy and was advised to not mentor, for fear of stress and undoing years of psycho-mending. If it weren't for that and the other mentors being far too busy - apart from Augustus - he wouldn't be allowed to.

"Afternoon Fredrico, what a beautiful day, am I right?" Augustus grins, premature white hair sleeked back, suit shining and snake eyes piercing. "Have you seen Sheer as of recently?"

"I haven't, no."

"Good."

"Isn't she mentoring alongside you?"

Augustus grins that knowing smile he's been famous, and feared, for. "She is indeed. But she knows better than that, Freddy. Now, is my human shield ready?"

Augustus Kingston is our most famous Victor. The only Victor from District One to survive the Victor's Purge, and even then, it had nothing to do with him. Augustus' father was best friends with Coriolanus Snow. He owned an academy - the only one now - that produced One's most famous Victors, including the likes of the Arvoy siblings, Cashmere and Gloss. Augustus was trained, naturally, and emerged victorious of the Seventy-Third Hunger Games, a year before the disaster struck. He was simply saved as a favour to his father, whilst the rest, including innocent Victors, perished with a single bullet ripping through their skull. With money and power, he's even more important than our dear, elderly mayor.

"Of course we are, like every year, sir." I respond, trying not to sound so disgusted by the man. Two Peacekeepers slip behind him, one of either side, and then the remaining two stand in front. I led the procession as we leave the room in the Justice Building.

Every year, Augustus fears for his life. Why? Because there are many upon many people within District One that wouldn't mind seeing him whipped to raw flesh, me included. His Victor's house, in Victor's Village, has become more of a brothel as of recent years. The weak and poor go there to earn money, whilst the rich and powerful go there to spend cash for "tricks". In simpler terms, Augustus is a pimp. Many girls whom I know, mainly from the poor part of District One known as Blackdamp, earn their money in his mansion. Disgusting behaviour, and everyone turns a blind eye, because he's ridiculously important and our elderly mayor is not very wise.

I slip open the doors, finding the crowd staring at me, the escort quietly waiting by a bowl, a slip in her hand.

"Are we ready to go?" she asks politely.

"Go for it." Augustus smirks and takes a seat. I usher away the Peacekeepers, and they take their positions. As Head Peacekeeper, I stand by Augustus and the empty seat, belonging to Sheer, who is missing. Augustus smiles knowingly as he scans the crowd, maybe for her.

"Our female tribute is..." the escort pipes up, cutting through silence. I watch as a lean, beautiful blonde girl slips through the crowd, a fire in her eyes. She silently walks the fated path, up the steps, and then across the gap. The escort looks up, smiles, before a frown forms on her face as the girl rips the microphone from her hand. The escort, however, refuses to lose attention, and simply slips forward. "And your name is, my dear?"

"I'm Fawn Asprey." she states calmly, before throwing the microphone back at the red-haired woman, causing a bounce of static to waver in the air. I smirk at her obvious lack of tact, realising Augustus is doing the same. That is never good. If Augustus liked someone, well... Sheer is the future for her.

"How lovely," the escort chirps. "Okay, and now for our boys! I hope you're all as excited as I am!"

Before her claws grab a paper slip, though, a boy is throwing himself - literally - through the air into the walkway. He kicks and knocks into some boys, accidentally of course, and falls spectacular onto the floor. A few chuckles ring out as he gets up, dusts himself off, and then runs for the stage in a determined sprint, eyes squeezed shut. He makes the stage and slips to the escort's side. She seems surprised, and even gasps at his presence.

"I-I'm sorry, young man," she giggles. "And your name is?"

"Kit, Kit Felix," he breathes heavily, before looking out into the crowd, standing up straight and then grinning a toothy grin. "Hi everyone."

Fawn plays coy by his side, but keeps her eyes locked on his obvious hyperactive form. I can even feel Augustus practically wiggling with the excitement and prospects. Kit seems good, but Fawn is what he wants. Sadly, Augustus rarely fails.

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Albatross of District Two.**

* * *

Maverick James spectacularly waltz onto stage, swaying slightly on his steps. He laughs, obviously intoxicated, and stops by me. I keep my pose rigid and straight, repeating the simple rule of mine in my mind; do not punch him. The smell of stale whiskey floats into my nose, and I gag. He laughs again.

"You look good in that uniform, you know," he speaks, slurring at the end. "But it'd look even better on my floor. How about after this, you c-come back to my place, m'?"

"You'll be going to the Capitol to mentor, not back home." I say as emotionless as I can.

"M', that's a shame," Maverick frowns, raising his hand towards my breast. "We could'a had some fun."

Instinctively, I break my rule. My hands wraps around the baton I possess, and quick as a flash, as he prepares himself to block my hit, I jerk my knee out, connecting with his groin. He buckles over, falling into my waiting hands.

"Touch me and I'll castrate you, got it?" I hiss into his ear, throwing him into the seat next to me, listening to him groaning and moaning.

"You aren't suppose to do that, Jorgie." I hear a familiar voice, like music to my ears.

Maverick's fellow mentor, Tarzana, walks onto the stage not long after. Compared to most Victors, even Career Victors, Tarzana has fared well. She didn't turn to drugs or alcohol or even violence like must do when returning home. Instead, she turned to me, Jorgie Albatross, her girlfriend. Me and Tarzana are the same age, friends from the Training Center. We trained together, grew up together, grew to love each other. She was selected as the volunteer and had no choice but to go in. She came back to me, of course, and rather than ruin her body and mind with alcohol and drugs, I comfort her and help rebuild the girl that I grew to love with every piece of my heart.

"Tell him that. He should know better."

Tarzana smirks, but she doesn't have to say what I'm thinking; no-one knows about us. District Two's Head Peacekeeper and a Victor, lesbian lovers? It'd cause a scandal. She walks past me, leaning in and allowing her breath to ghost over my ear. "I love you."

She takes her seat next to the moaning Maverick, and we wait patiently in silence. Me and Tarzana share glances as the escort takes the stage, the video plays, the mayor walks on and the potential tributes. Tarzana filled me in on the representatives from the Training Center, because of course, everyone, every year, is tested in the Training Center to see who deserves to walk into it. Only the best - or bribed - get a shot. I was good, good enough to rise to Head Peacekeeper in the matter of four years, but not as good as Tarzana and her nimble shot with knives. The trainees - black leather jackets and silver dog tags hanging around their necks - come out last in groups of four or six. Obvious, but not obvious.

I hold my breath as the escort picks up the female slip. Just like Tarzana mentioned, a girl, Asian, tall and lean and sinister walks to the stage, head held high. She looks particularly bored with everything around, but also like a rotten smell is underneath her nose. She mounts the steps and collects the microphone from the escort.

"Minerva Li." she states simply, handing it back and proceeding to look at her fingernails as the escort seems ecstatic.

"Thank you, dear."

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Minerva replies without looking up.

A male slip is collected within seconds. Apparently, this one is a boy with a rather strange name. Ransom, apparently. I know of his mother, Lienza, since she's a constant advocate at the Training Center. One of her four children was bribed into the Games alongside Tarzana. He was extremely weak because, well, he was by far one of the lower trainees in score and ability in our year; he was bloodbathed within seconds. According to Tarzana, Lienza refuses to give up, and Ransom is the last child left to carry the torch.

"And you are?"

I look back at the stage and see Ransom - shaggy dark hair and a muscular frame - holding the microphone with a perplexed look. "Ransom Denvir."

"We have another Denvir child! Yay!"

The poor boy.

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Angelo of District Three.**

* * *

District Three has never been one for me. I was trained in District Two, like most Peacekeepers, and then transferred to here. I admit, I'm probably not as horrid as many Peacekeepers are, but I do rule this district with an iron fist. Nothing happens without me knowing about it. I made sure to learn the names of all previous convicts and made sure to keep an eye out for them. I'm not cruel; I don't believe in public whippings, but I believe in an orderly way of life. I guess that's why I was transferred to Three amongst the more clever, controlled civilians, since I portray many traits that fit their stereotype.

I wait on the bottom of the stage, watching as children, young and old, gather around in their pens. Parents wait on the outskirts, fingernails clenched between teeth and huddled together for comfort, security, any hope they can cling to that their child isn't stripped away.

Compared to Career districts, or the more unruly districts like Seven and Eleven, Three is mild-mannered in general. The selected tributes - never volunteers - usually break down and admit defeat, slumping towards the steps. Careers are overjoyed and usually never depressed, whilst Seven and Eleven are more aggressive. It's something that has grown over the last few years since the Quell. That's why I wait down here; to help the chosen climb the steps, a small gesture of encouragement.

Bolt and Mercury come out of the Justice Building, faces conflicted and emotionally drained.

Neither have brought a Victor home yet. Bolt won, brought Mercury home, and that's been it. Always one of their tributes end up as a bloodbath, and it's been a while since one has made the final ten, let alone the finale in general. Nowadays, smarts just don't go as far as throwing a spear or knife.

Bolt nods at me curtly, and I reply.

We have a mild relationship; I ignore him, he ignores me. Why Bolt in particular? Because Bolt is a known carer. Many years after winning, he found his life empty, and began to adopt street children, those without homes. Six adopted children thus far. It's suppose to be in the rules that a child or person, not of blood or marriage, is not allowed to live in a Victor's home.

But he does good, he isn't breaking any laws, and I allow it.

"Shall we begin with the reapings, hmm?" the escort, a male this time, asks politely. "Males first this time."

He crosses the stage, collecting the first slip. I watch the children attentively, their eyes widened or slamming shut, all in the prospects that they can avoid the dreaded sentence contained on the white piece of paper.

"Terris Avar." he states calmly.

A small, forced laugh fills the air. Everyone turns to the boy in question - bright blue eyes and shaggy hair - who seems to be the owner of a laugh. He looks around and tries to laugh again, but it flounders in the air and people slip apart rather quickly. He moves quietly through the crowds and towards the stage. He passes me, without a single look, and climbs the steps, arm clamped by the escort. I know somewhat of Terris - his name drifts in the air in random conversations. Apparently, the boy has an unusual love of fireworks, and people think him as "dangerous" because of it.

"And now, the ladies."

I move my eyes to the females. Every girl, young and old, seems slightly terrified. It's become a curse of Three to not do that well.

"Nova Watts."

Everyone turns around again, finding the girl. Her wide eyes seem terrified, her body pressed on the edge of the pens. Two people behind her - possibly parents - have their hands locked around her elbows, keeping her on the edge of the pen, like that might save her. She manages to shake free of the adults grasp and moves forward rather quickly. Compared to Terris, though, she passes me and cracks a faint, defeated smile. She looks about thirteen.

She knows the odds aren't high; both her age and origin are huge downfalls. District Three will more than likely not prevail again.

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Tydel of District Four.**

* * *

I shouldn't be surprised, as I walk past the door, to hear Creek and River arguing once more. I stop, eavesdropping, ear pressed to the door. I can hear Creek murmuring about lying and deceit; River countering with weak and pitiful. River screams and something smashes against a wall, a loud crack breaking out.

"Shouldn't be eavesdropping, you should know better," I hear a voice, startling me enough to spin around. Calypso stands there, smug. "Arguing once more are they?"

"Indeed." I respond, scratching the back of my neck.

Calypso hums, stepping forward and knocking on the door carelessly. It swings open a moment later, revealing River, flustered with tear-stained cheeks.

"What?" she hisses.

"Quit being children and get out onto the stage," Calypso hisses just as good. "Otherwise I'll do it and you can go see Annie."

River growls, throwing her hands in the air and storming past both me and Calypso. I can see Creek on the inside, head in his hands. Calypso coughs and Creek looks up, rolling his eyes and following pursuit of River towards the stage. Calypso Thame is a Victor, too, but has since given up, passing mentoring duties to River and Creek, despite their obvious hatred for the other. Instead, he spends his time over at the Cresta household, checking up on Annie and her son, even though he's much older now.

"Tydel, make sure they don't kill each other, would you?"

"Yes sir," I bow, scurrying past him. He can be quite... overwhelming when he's angry.

I push open the door that leads out of the Justice Building, not surprised to find the two seats that are occupied by mentors - River and Creek in this case - are on two separate sides of the stage. Both sit down, postures held angrily and, overall, not setting the best of examples. I can see Calypso's creeping form escape too, heading out to the Victor's Village located on the edge of District Four, sandy beaches and beautiful marble. I'm jealous not to say the least. The same escort we've had for many years now also comes out the crowd, shaking hands with children who either look bored, or shake back just as eagerly. He laps up the attention just a bit too much, if you ask me.

"District Four!" he calls as he climbs the steps. "Lets show Panem why they should all be jealous of us!"

A lot of the teenagers - no doubt potential volunteers - all scream back ferociously, eyes wild and teeth bared like animals. The escort grabs hold of the microphone and yanks it off the stand, watching it fall. He chuckles and boots the metal across the floorboards, clearly seeing this as more of a party rather than a reaping.

The cameras begin to roll since his attitude tones down. He catches a kiss blown at him; though no idea who would bother. He makes his way over to the first bowl, the females, when I already see a girl in particular beginning to move. She places a foot out the pen, getting ready to lift the rope up and run. As the escort snags onto the first slip, she makes her move, brutally slapping a girl that also has the same idea. She runs with arms and legs pumping, jumping onto the stage, landing perfectly.

The escort isn't surprised and simply hands her the microphone.

"Odette Leith. Your tribute, District Four." she hisses into the object, passing it back to the escort with fire in her eyes.

"Oh, you're just precious," he feigns sweetness, taking the slip from the males bowl. "And your district partner, dear Odette, is L-"

"I volunteer!" a voice calls out.

I scan the area, noticing the boy duck underneath the rope - dark hair and thin frame - and a devil's smile worn on his face. He crosses the gap to a few cheers and claps, climbing the steps to Odette's glare and the escort's obvious excitement. He wraps the boy in a hug before handing him the microphone.

"Percival Harlin," he speaks clearly, a twinge of superiority in his voice. "Better than Odette over here."

She only responds with a glare I know all too well. I can't see our district partners getting along this year; much like their mentors.

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Ruben of District Five.**

* * *

Once more, I watch with sad eyes as Cordelia Ethon is escorted onto the stage, still in her handcuffs. Zeke Wallace follows, a withdrawn look in his eyes and the way he holds himself. It doesn't surprise me that he's tired - Cordelia has no family, and for some reason, Zeke opted himself as her carer, and that means dealing with her many suicidal attempts. God knows how many times I've been to Cordelia's residence, alongside my crew, trying to detract her from the blade held against her wrist.

She gazes my way, eyes grey and glossed over, and I snap my head in the opposite direction. I won't make eye contact with her - I'm one of the many people that are keeping her from dying.

"Oh Ruben dear!" I hear the voice before I even see the mass of hair hurtling my way.

I notice the mass of golden hair, shaped in a cone, and instantly know that it's Ursula, the escort. One night. One night the alcohol got to our heads and something happened. Now, every year, Ursula returns, smitten and wanting to lead me astray. I might be young, but I'm much wiser now. And by now, I mean two years later from that, an only recently having become the Head Peacekeeper. I mean, when it happened, I was in the Capitol, sent on suicide watch for Cordelia. Now, well, I won't be able to go since the district is my responsibility to run; sure, it's the mayor's too, but he doesn't deal with the hands-on stuff, just the nasty politics.

"Ruben, how have you been? I feel like it's been forever."

"It has indeed; way too long if you ask me," I lie through my teeth. "Back again are we?"

"I did get offered my promotion, but I turned it down," Ursula giggles. "Why would I want to be in District One when I can come back here every year and see you?"

The woman is truly delusional - countless times I have said to her that nothing can happen now that I've become the Head Peacekeeper; my job and reputation are on the line, and so are hers, but she's willing to throw it all away for a moments passion that has apparently sent her off the deep end into a pool of clueless romance. She doesn't even realise that my feelings will never, ever be reciprocated.

"Mustn't you get onto the stage and start the reapings soon?" I ask, trying to urge the woman away.

She looks behind and then front again, tugging her lip between her teeth and biting lightly. "Oh... oh I suppose I have to. I'll be quick, and then we can go back to yours?"

"You'll have to be on the train by then, Ursula."

"Oh, shoot, yeah you're right. Can't you come to the Capitol with me?"

"That was for the one year only, Ursula; I'm Head Peacekeeper now, I have a duty to everyone in this district."

Ursula frowns like some child and walks to the stage, head hanging low and an unenthusiastic smile planted on her face. She climbs the steps and passes Cordelia, not making contact with her. Cordelia looks at me slowly, eyes gazing wide, and I once again look. I'm ashamed to keep saving her; just because she's a Victor, doesn't mean she should be held captive in a life she clearly doesn't want to lead.

"Hello District Five and welcome to the Hunger Games once more," Ursula drones, voice dead and eyes slightly wet. "I will present you with your female tribute."

She crosses the gap and takes the first slip. She peels it open and sighs heavily. "India Cross, please come to the stage."

A girl with a pointed face and long hair shuffles awkwardly to the stage, eyes wide and scared as she takes each step carefully. She moves to Ursula and holds out her hand. Ursula sighs, trying to bring the microphone to her lips, but India grabs it awkwardly and brings it to her lips, "I'm nervous you know, in case you were all wondering."

Ursula snatches it back and drags herself to the boy's bowl. She glances down at me from the stage, pouting and clearly forcing the brimming tears to spill; obviously to try and guilt-trip me into attending the Capitol. I shrug and she huffs, yanking the slip with anger and slipping it open. She looks at me the entire time as she reads out the boy's name.

"Stellan Kingsley, come on down." she deadpans, eyes never leaving mine.

A boy with blistering white hair parts from the crowd and walks down neutrally. But as my eyes flick back to Ursula, I watch her silently bring her thumb to her throat, and then slice along. Fear takes hold of my heart; what is that suppose to mean?

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Hertz of District Six.**

* * *

Lorcan Trump and Wisp Brucknall stop, the latter backing his steps to come face-to-face with me.

"Did you say something?"

"Yes, I did," I admit honestly. "Not that it's any of your business."

"So you talk about us but keep your mouth shut? Wise boy, Hertz." Lorcan chimes in.

"Always was a coward." Wisp hisses, moving way once more.

I've never, ever liked either of them. I've never liked any of our Victors, come to think of it. Each one claims that they saw horrors untold of and things that the mind could never erase. And, yet, they parade around like celebrities, flashing money and pretending to be vigilantes. I'll never understand why the Hunger Games have to let anyone live; they should all just die. Wisp and Lorcan climb the stage and take their seats. See? They get special treatment because they're "Victors", a term that should be used more loosely. Not to mention the fact that it's my job to make sure they're safe and everything. I basically have to act like their personal underdogs. It disgusts me enough as it is to be near them, let alone save them.

That's why every year, I pray we never win. It just boasts arrogance and egos, and we have enough of those here in District Six.

I watch as some children pack into the appropriate sections, eyes glossed over in fear.

The escort waits patiently, a comforting smile on her face. She almost looks sad; but why do the job if you felt depressed? Then again, I do this job despite hating it, but for me, money is money. That's the thing that keeps me going; knowing I can have more money and can escape poverty compared to the others.

"We'll do our male tribute first," she states calmly, a slip already in her hand. She silently apologises to the name, before peeling back the slip. "Theon Sykes."

Theon? Oh, this should be good. I hear a young woman cry, no doubt his girlfriend, Savannah. Theon and Savannah are well known around the districts; parents have tender ages. I find her face easily, bright red and painted with tears, a small child wrapped in her arms and another latched onto her leg. He doesn't understand what's going on as daddy solemnly walks to the stage. Theon is well-known, too. I've dealt with him many times, both as a teenager and a father.

He ascends the steps and the escort wraps him in a comforting hug. He doesn't respond; eyes willingly watching Savannah and his children openly sob.

"Lets keep moving," the escort seems slightly down after that. She takes the next slip and flips it. "Your female tribute is... Justice Florence."

A loud, piercing shriek is heard from the females. A bright redhead moves forward with tiny steps, tears leaking from her eyes and quivering lips ready to beg for her life. I know her, too; the youngest child and only daughter of Doctor Eugene Florence, the loyal mortician. She seems far too tearful than what I would expect of a girl that spends her days working alongside her father and dead people. When she reaches the stage, I expect Theon to look at her, but he doesn't.

Not the reaping I expected. I look to Wisp and Lorcan, conversing quietly. Lorcan catches my eye and flips his middle finger in my direction.

Really, I hope neither tribute lives; Theon's children are young and will forget, Justice's father has always been far too strange for anyone's liking. With them dead, we can avoid another arrogant Victor, much like Wisp and Lorcan.

"District Six, your tributes." the escort deadpans.

She's responded with nothing but silence.

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Popplyn of District Seven.**

* * *

I've always hated District Seven. I asked for a new post, but no, I'm left like a wretched soul amongst jungle life. Of course there are no jungles out here, but the barbarians might as well live in huts in the trees. Over the more recent years since my posting, District Seven has grown more cocky, arrogant and self-assured. Their previous mayor, Mayor Root, seemed to like the idea of having many upon many Victors. He even wanted to classify District Seven as a Career district, despite only having three tributes return home victorious.

Deluded, really. I am so glad they re-elected the position once he was assassinated. By whom? Well, many say the new mayor, his opposer, Mayor Cole poisoned him. Some believed that Districts One, Two and Four were unimpressed by the note that District Seven would become a Career district - despite never getting into the Careers as far as I know - and sent over someone trained to show him what a real Career would look like, not some gorilla child.

No-one really knows, but either way, the man is dead, buried six foot under, whilst the new mayor is much more calm and collected, albeit a bit stressed.

I still hate the district though. The way the sun peaks the sky, setting down rays on green grass, green trees and just green everything. Last year, the Seven tributes died, one after the other, in the bloodbath. Both twelve year olds. Should I feel sorry? Possibly. But I don't; neither child was a good person, and in my mind, both deserved it. The boy was a common thief and the girl was nothing more than a pauper's daughter.

"Popplyn, would you mind standing on the other side of the steps?"

I snap out my trance and look up at the man. One of the mentors, Spruce, towers above me, stood on the stage. Spruce Groven himself is a nasty piece of work; the self-assured, cocky Victor who seems bigger than his boots.

"And why is that?"

"Because, if you haven't noticed, the cameras will want to look at the stage and not you. You're pretty, Popplyn, but that doesn't mean your face needs to broadcasted around the whole of Panem," he smiles, stepping back. I follow his order, begrudingly, and he smirks. "That'll do nicely."

I growl under my breath as he takes his seat next to Maple Palmer. Another wretched, gorilla woman. She, too, is cocky and arrogant, and I don't like her. Plain and simple. I don't like many inhabitants in this place, albeit a few, and even then, they are either Peacekeepers or workers that could benefit me in any way possible. Eveyone else has hair on their knuckles and likes to bang their chests.

The escort takes the stage and smiles wildly. Children flock into the Square, all looking rather scared. I hold back a scoff as a particular eighteen year old boy fails and falls, tripped by his own two feet. My fellow Peacekeeper, Adrian, smirks and helps the boy out, jabbing his finger just a bit too hard with the needle, sapping him of a tiny amount of blood. The boy has tears in his eyes, and that itself only enlightens Adrian to the point of him grinning just as wild as the escort.

"We'll do females first, I suppose," the escort seems slightly deflated after his limelight was stolen, but who wouldn't be? "And our female this year is... Laurel Aston!"

A little girl, around fourteen or so, steps apart from the crowd of girls. Her eyes are the size of saucers, wide and accusing and sad, all rolled into one. She doesn't know which emotion wants to play, and tears brim and spill down her cheeks finely. My heart, for once, goes out to this girl - she seems innocent and not at all ape-like. She moves solemnly towards the stage, whilst the escort - obviously in a rush after the whole attitude problem - snaps up a male slip and waits not-so-patiently.

Laurel climbs the stage and the escort sighs into the microphone. "And our male tribute is..."

He pauses, and a small smirk forms on his face. Everyone waits on edge - why is he seeming happy? I smile in response. Be a bad child. Be a bad child.

"Ewan Cole."

The new mayor's son? How interesting. Everyone knows him; the aggressive playboy is well-known around this district. His blonde hair and chiseled features makes him stand apart from the crowd. He snarls, teeth bared for a moment, before he angrily shoves the kid next to him out of the way, causing the boy to stumble. He storms to the crowd, a flurry of anger and accusations baring across his face, knocking any person that dares cross his path. I turn to his father, Mayor Cole, who seems to be so absorbed into his mind, he doesn't seem to realise his son climbs the steps and almost pushes Laurel, too.

Ewan, of course, is what I hate the most. An ape-child. Good riddance to him.

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Harlequin of District Eight.**

* * *

The little girl stumbles, falling to the floor, banging her knee. Tears instantly prick her eyes, and as I watch from the side, my maternal instinct kicks in. I cross the small gap, ushering teenagers to move aside, and grab the girl by the shoulders. I lean her head up, to face me, and she smiles.

"Are you okay sweetheart? Did you hurt your knee?"

Her lips quiver and she nods hurriedly. "I-I was tryin' to find my momma..."

"How old are you darling?"

"5," she replies. "Where's my momma?"

I scoop the girl up into my arms, ignoring the glare from my second-in-command, Ruly. He doesn't approve of me treating this district like a home - rather than a place I work in. I care for these people compared to most people in my position. Every child, teenager, elderly person or adult are my responsibility. I'm to keep them safe and sound. Ruly believes I let my emotions cloud my judgement. Maybe I do, but that's why District Eight has always been a safe haven. We never get problems because everyone knows the Peacekeepers are here to keep peace, not introduce unknown fear.

A woman, frantic and scared, whips her head in my direction and sighs in relief. The little girl claws the air until her arms are wrapped securely around her mother's neck.

"Thank you."

"Glad to help," I smile, watching the young woman and child escape the busy crowd. I feel his breath on my neck before I see him. "What do you want Ruly?"

"You let emotions cloud your judgement."

"You sound like a broken record," I reply, turning to the younger man. "Remember whose the boss and whose the underling, Ruly. Should really learn your place."

"I do, and it'll be Head Peacekeeper soon enough." Ruly smirks.

"I'm sure it will."

Ruly smirks once again, winking as he struts pass me towards the stage, gun rattling in his holster. Even though I'm Head Peacekeeper, I hate to be at that stage when two helpless children are plucked from their innocence. Ruly, on the other hand, bathes in the power and the fear. I let him do it every year, just so I don't have to worry about their drawn, large-eyed faces staring at mine for help, when they know I'm as helpless as they are. I rub my hand over my face, truly exhausted. I take my position, on the sides alongside the others, and wait for everyone to fill in. I watch the narrow faces and sunken eyes, children I watch grow and want to protect. My own children will be in there, somewhere, but rules are rules and I'm not allowed to see them on reaping day.

The escort clips onto the stage, a drawn looking on her face. Her smile looks like a cartoon, whilst everything - hair and clothes - are a stained bubblegum pink. She doesn't stay anything, not even grabbing the microphone, before she trots to collect a slip. She swirls her hand around the glass mockingly, digging to the bottom for a slip. It could be anyone; I just hope not a young child.

She motions back to the microphone and unhooks it. "Our female tribute this year is Challis Glenley. Do I have a Challis Glenley?"

I know the girl personally. Challis has had a sheltered, humble life, with the fine riches and the luxury of food on the table every night; not something every child is lucky to get these days. Her father is close to the mayor, Mayor Burlap. Challis' beautiful face and blonde hair comes into view, tears staining her cheeks, smudging the mascara she so neatly wears. She climbs the stage and waits at the steps. Why at the steps?

"Our male tribute is..." I didn't even see the escort pick a male's name. "Anubis Cotton!"

I hear a man's voice complain, and a boy steps forward, anger flared into his eyes. This one doesn't seem so innocent compared to Challis. He moves forward, shoving a kid out the way. He storms onto the stage, finger raised in the air. "Nobody volunteers, nobody!" he calls out.

Ruly steps forward to unite both Anubis and Challis, but Anubis does nothing but send an angry kick into Ruly's knee, causing him to fall to the floor. Silence and gasps fill the air, Ruly's whiny voice vibrating from the stage. Anubis walks with determination into the Justice Building, ahead of Challis, and she kindly smiles and follows after him, leaving a stunned escort on the stage, alone.

I move forward and help pick Ruly up, making sure that he sees my smirk. "That is what you get for being a complete asshole all the time."

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Jasper of District Nine.**

* * *

"I just hope no little children are reaped," Buck says quietly from our position on the stage. "I'd hate to go through what happened last year, and the year before, and the year before."

I nod in agreement. "Is Bailey joining you, or is Remy?"

"Bailey again. Trying to keep it even gendered, and, well, Bailey is the only female..."

"Yeah." I reply.

I like Buck Kamut. Compared to what you expect most Victors to be like, Buck is rather laid back and actually caring. One of the few to survive the Victor's Purge, Buck took it upon himself to ensure that all children were given a fair shot at trying. He never discriminated against the district partner. Him and Bailey, his usual fellow mentor, work as a team rather than opposites. Buck mentions that they pool sponsor money together, and try to keep both the male and female representatives alive for as long as possible. Add that to the fact that District Nine is a relatively calm district, full of simple people living simple lives, it works best. The most danger these kids have seen is what happens in their homes. As a whole, District Nine doesn't face problems like the other districts do. I've been Head Peacekeeper for almost fourty years, and I've never faced a troublesome soul.

"Jasper," I hear a voice, turning around to see Bailey's kind face. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine. Nervous for my grandchildren."

"As one would expect," Bailey smiles warmly. "Don't fear; I'm sure the odds aren't in their favor."

I nod once again, moving aside so that Bailey can sit down alongside Buck. Both are content with their lives; and it's not hidden that Buck was once apart of the rebel alliance building amongst Victors. And whilst our Victor pool is a lot smaller compared to most districts, we've fared well. I'm proud to be apart of such a warm, welcoming district. I quiet down when I watch the escort - an elderly looking woman with narrow eyes - walk onto stage and glare at the children that pack in.

"Hurry up, hurry up, we haven't got all day!" she protests into the microphone with a droning voice.

Buck and Bailey share glances as the pens are locked by my fellow Peacekeepers. I allow myself to find my grandchildren, Ricki and Asher, both holding hands in the twelve-years old section, tearful eyes and grim expressions. It won't be them. It can't be them. Surely not...

"We'll spice things up since we've waited long enough and boredom has set in," the escort drawls, "So, our males."

She grabs a slip straight from the top, teasing it with a finger. She smiles and looks into the crowd, flipping up the slip so painfully slow. She presses the microphone to her lips once more, and hushes.

"Our male tribute is..." she whispers. "Quinlan Nour."

Is that Ardere's son? Yes, I'm almost sure, and when I see the same bright blue eyes that stare at me on a daily basis, I quickly scan to find Ardere. She stands on the side, white Peacekeeper uniform spectacularly clean, staring at her son hard as he splits from the crowd. His face is a mask of boredom, almost matching Ardere's exactly. Neither care? Ardere had always been strict and rather narrow, but I didn't expect her to seem so cold against her son's sentence.

"Oh, how lovely, another young one," the escort seems unimpressed. "How about our females and some more luck, folks?"

What a wicked woman. No care for the tributes. I try to stop looking at Ardere, her eyes glued to her child, but I can't ignore the cold hatred that seems to radiate from her brightened orbs. I don't even know what other name has been called out. A scream bounds into the air, and I focus back to the scene. The girl in question seems frozen on the spot, eyes staring blankly. A boy on the outside - over reaping age clearly - is screaming her name over and over again.

_Fay! Fay! Fay!_

She moves slowly, willing her body to take each painful step towards her possible doom. The fear is set in her eyes. The boy is sobbing, heartbroken. Quinlan stands there with eyes locked on the floor. Ardere is on the side, studying her son. Bailey and Buck seem pained at the surroundings. Me, on the other hand, is thinking selfishly. I feel bad for the girl, I really do. For the boy and Quinlan and his mother. But my grandchildren are safe; and that's all that matters to me.

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Bale of District Ten.**

* * *

"Hay Bale," Sunny says once she notices me stood on the stage. "Get it? Like Hay and Bale, your name and the round thing."

"Your banter amuses me, sister."

"So it should, I've been working on that all morning," Sunny smirks. "Have you seen Lylac? I can't find her."

"She's already out there because she turns up on time."

Sunny ponders on something for a moment. "And why are you in here then?"

"Not allowed, remember? Being your brother, I can't be on the stage; favouritism or something."

"I keep forgetting; I'm so used to seeing your ugly face everyday, I forget that I don't see it on the stage." she replies, an edge of wickedness in her voice.

"That's not very nice."

"I suppose I'm not very nice," Sunny winks. "Oh, lighten up, Bale-boy, your job is easy."

"Just go, you're late." I point, watching her bow mockingly and then disappear through the doors. Being a Victor's brother, I have to avoid showing favouritism. The Garth name has already been dragged through the mud after Sunny won her Games the most brutal of ways. I can't do the same. I mindlessly walk to the window, hands folded across my chest.

She takes her seat next to Lylac, who smacks her across the arm. I snigger, watching Sunny threaten Lylac playfully with a closed fist. The escort skips past them, nothing but a blur of green and gold. I can't hear her, so I turn around and cross the room, flicking the switch so I can hear the tanoy that sits in the corner of the room.

"Welcome District Ten! I just love your animals!"

Ew. Too enthusiastic and just a bad liar in general.

"We'll start with your female tribute," I walk to the window and watch her collect the slip, showing it to the crowd for some strange reason. "And the lucky person is Serena Pierce!"

I can't see too well from this position - an advantage, really - but I notice the girl climb the steps, body vibrating with each breath she takes. She's hyperventilating, but keeping back tears. Good on her; definitely reminds me of Sunny. Her light hair and pale complexion might be able to pull her in some sponsors once she's beautified a bit. Yeah, she might do alright. The escort grabs Serena and plops her on her left, and I watch Serena instantly go rigid. The escort crosses the stage once more to collect the male.

"And now, District Ten, your wonderful male tribute will be... Ezra Zinnia!"

Again, like Serena, I don't notice the boy until he's on stage. That's when something seems strange; he looks boyish, sure, but his features seem very delicate and if anything, his complexion is a lot smoother and cleaner than what I managed to glimpse of Serena. It must be the windows. Yeah, it must distort the tributes and everything. Like Serena, too, he stands rigid and doesn't dare move as the escort places him on Serena's side. She forcibly links their hands together and raises them in the air.

"District Ten, you wonderful district you, meet your tributes!"

She then leads both into the Justice Building. I glance at Ezra and Serena once more. And no, the window didn't distort anything, because I'm almost positive that Ezra is a girl.

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Hector of District Eleven.**

* * *

Our district is the poorest. No, correction, District Twelve is poorer, but we aren't that much better. After having all our previous Victors obliterated - which wasn't even a lot anyway - we got to keep one; my sister-in-law, Ida Noire. She managed to bring home Mako, and then, the water went dry. District Eleven hasn't won since Mako and that was... the Eighty-Second Games; two decades ago. When a Victor wins, the district benefits; Mako's winning meant a lot of grain and small rewards for the families. Now, we're suffering.

Our tributes are either usually bloodbathed - the common occurence - or managed to last a day or two. Use to starvation and dehydration, they can brave a lot - a benefit over those with weapons - and yeah, they aren't completely useless, but we have never, ever fared well. Careers are more common. Since the Quarter Quell, the four Victors were dominated with three being from either Districts One or Two. The last one, last year, happened to be a frail, meek boy from District Twelve who won by pure luck.

The hollow cheeks and sunken eyes are the first sight I see when I emerge from the Justice Building, Ida and Mako in tow.

They line the pens, enlarged more than average. District Eleven, whilst poor, also happens to have a very large population. That's why we're poor; too many people fighting for minor jobs, especially when children as young as twelve are often employed more.

"Lets get this over with," Mako whispers into Ida's ear, but I manage to catch the words. "I hate this part the most."

"Don't we all." Ida responds.

They take their seat and I stand by the door, acknowledging the male escort. We are only allowed male escorts now since Eleven riots. A lot. And the Capitol doesn't feel safe sending female escorts in case they are caught in the crossfire, even though Peacekeepers are targeted the most. We are hated because the line of work we took. I was trained and employed by District Two, born and bred there too, but I was sent to District Eleven specifically because of my skin colour - Eleven is dominated by dark-skinned and olive-skinned people, with Caucasians acting as the minority. It's safer, they kept telling me over and over again.

"Shall we begin with the reapings?" the escort asks in a burly voice. "Hey! Kid! Get in the pen now and let me start!"

The kid obeys once a Peacekeeper steps forward, poking him in the back with the holster of his gun. The children are unruly due to their treatment. It's only ever getting worst, never better, and unless we provide a Victor soon, the downward tumble will only go faster.

"Our female tribute is... Lena Romero!"

A tall girl - beautiful with dark hair and tanned skin - looks bewildered for a second, before a hardened look replaces her stunning features. I know slightly of Lena; an orphan that seems motherly to the younger ones. She steals food and protects them with her own life; I should know, her arguments with the other Peacekeepers have circled back to me. They expect me to deal with her, and I did. I passed her name onto the Capitol in the hopes of this.

I smile as she climbs the stage. All done to prove that I have power over others.

"Welcome lovely lady," he smirks rather predatory. "And your district partner is..."

He moves to the male bowl and takes a slip. This, I know, isn't my fault.

"Bracken Mathis!"

I don't know this boy, thankfully. I feel bad for doing that to Lena - somewhere in my body at least - but it was for the greater good. He strides to the stage rather confidently, the pale complexion that was quickly taken when he heard his name vanishing with each step. He mounts the stage, and playfully turns around, back to the audience, Lena and the escort. She glares at his attitude - but it's an act of defiance, and isn't meant to please anyone.

Maybe, just maybe, we might have a winner after all; we really do need it.

* * *

**Head Peacekeeper Magnus of District Twelve.**

* * *

"Shall I do our female tribute now, folks, and then our male? Or switch it up and have some fun, hmm?"

I grin, my eyes glaring at any child who dares make any eye contact with me. Everyone in this pathetic district fears me; and they should. Well, only minutes ago, I smacked a kid around the head with my gun because he spit on my shoes, the nasty vermin. Of course he was a Seam child; they're the worse critters that could ever scurry around.

The crowd doesn't respond to the escort's cheerfulness, preventing her from having the "time of her life". She frowns, skipping across the gap past both Peeta Mellark and Crispin Ricknor, two of the few Victors that Twelve has ever gained. Being poor, this lousy district has nothing but starving, frail children, who go in and die within seconds. If they actually had the balls to volunteer every now and then, then they might win, get food, and stop being so damn pathetic.

Crispin looks at me carefully, quickly avoiding my gaze when he sees that I return the look. He's one of the frail, weak children I was on about. Winning only last year - by pure luck - he's only seventeen and not exactly the brightest bulb. From the Seam, rough as rough, a constant glaze over his eyes. I'm surprised he managed, but again, he won by pure luck; he hid and avoided everything, running like a coward, and his final opponent - some airhead from District One - was badly injured and the silly girl ran straight into a Mutt's jaws. He was declared victorious without actually breaking his soul apart to kill.

"Okay then, everyone," she mumbles, taking a slip. "We'll just keep traditional; don't want to start a trend now, do we?"

Again, no reply. I laugh under my breath; stupid woman.

"District Twelve, your female tribute this year happens to be... Katerine Holloway!"

A girl who looks seemingly normal extracts herself from the crowd - though it takes a while for Katerine to pry the hand of another girl off of her - and walks slowly towards us. Her eyes shake with fright, but she tries to hold on hope. I wouldn't, girl, you're as good as dead. The escort clutches her hand and pulls her to the centre of attention. From here, I can make out the way her hair is thin in some places, but what distracts me the most is the way she seems to be curling her fingers against her side.

Strange girl; probably Seam, all the broken, twisted, tormented, weird or just plain idiotic children seem to come from that area of District Twelve.

"Is everyone excited for the male? Are you Katerine?"

She nods without looking, eyes cast on something outwards. The escort sighs and collects the male slip with ease, simply leaning around Katerine. She folds it open and I grin, eyeing up many of the younger males, taunting them with my eyes.

"Colton Dacanay!"

A crowd parts, leaving two boys in the middle. One looks petrified, the other seems almost clueless. The petrified one nudges the other forward, who stumbles and turns, realising what is actually happening. He sinks into the crowd, leaving the obvious Colton alone. He sighs and moves forward slowly, some other boys quietly encouraging and supporting him. As he ascends the steps, like before, the escort catches him with sharp nails and lines him against Katerine.

"Oh, now, we have a great pair here, wouldn't you agree?" the escort chirps, nails digging into their shoulder blades.

He isn't Seam; his looks give that much away. Ah, well, next year we'll lose another rat. What am I saying, we'll lose both again. We're the underdogs and they are always meant to die, one way or another. That's what we get for coming from such a pathetic district.

* * *

**Underdog by Imagine Dragons.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_Any reapings stand out to you, or POVs?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Firstly, I apologise for the length - I didn't mean for it to be so long but I just wanted it over with!**

**Secondly, this chapter was dreadful to write. Anyone who knows me knows I loathe reapings with my whole being. Writing this destroyed my creativity and fun. So, I apologise that this might well and truly suck. I promise it'll get better; again, I just wanted this over and done with so I can get into the characters!**

**All the tributes got a little bit to shine, they'll be developed some more in the Capitol! Oh, and yeah, some POVs are shorter than others, so again, I'm sorry!**


	4. The Fear

**The Fear.**

_I been worryin' that we all live our lives in the confines of fear._

* * *

**Katerine Holloway, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

"Come along Katerine, it's time to get you beautified!" the stylist chirps, much like a bird.

I follow along, though, since I know there isn't much point in fighting it or even trying to run. I would run, actually, and I wouldn't even deny it. I could run and run, without looking back, but where would it get me? I couldn't run all the way home and I don't even know why I'm debating it in my mind, like I'd have a shot at escaping the Capitol's clutches. The stylist guides me along the halls and then she points at a door. She doesn't say anything; only pointing with a sharp nail. I hold my breath and twist the doorknob.

I'm instantly bombarded by a group of colourful people, their hands roaming my body. I panic for a moment, freezing like an animal in headlights as they throw me behind a curtain.

"Take your clothes off, dear," someone chirps once more, voice far too peppy for my liking. "Otherwise we can do it for you."

I quickly climb out of my clothes, a longing in my heart as I leave the last piece of District Twelve on the small table. I emerge naked, a towel wrapped around my body, and am instantly pushed onto the table. Someone starts to grab hold my hair and I freeze up once more; they pull on it and begin to lather water and a sweet-smelling liquid into it. They hum and discuss something quietly.

"Sweetie, your hair is rather fine," one says lightly. "There are loads of bald patches."

My body tenses and goes rigid. I force myself to nod in response and allow them to work on me silently.

"Did you know, Katerine, that your mentor this year will be Crispin? I think it's wonderful that you'll get the most recent Victor to mentor you," the same one who comments on hair, says once more. "He'll be able to teach you everything you need to know."

How to hide, basically. That's all he did; nothing spectacular. It was a clever idea, that much is certain, but not everyone can do the same. I'm also positive that the Careers will hold a grudge against District Twelve for winning last year, particularly District One after losing their competitor so easily. If anything, that makes mine and Colton's chances a lot less. Colton seemed okay, actually - he was scared, naturally, but so was I and I'm not even a timid person in nature. I doubt we'll be allies; the moment he got on the train, he went to his room to "nap". Someone that lazy couldn't be trusted in the arena, but nonetheless, I won't be wishing for his blood to be spilt, even though it needs to be for my survival.

"We're all done now, what do you think?" the woman says, face almost in mine. She holds up a mirror, and I can see a whole new girl. "Well, thoughts?"

I smile. "Thank you."

"It's no problem, but it's time you go and meet the master to your piece."

"Wha-"

I'm pushed off the table, and the little birds flutter out the room, chirping and cheering at their work. I must have been horrid, obviously. I turn around at the sink, clean and pristine, marred with strands of my hair. I'm almost fascinated by it; they were so close to finding ou- no, no I can't think like that. They didn't, they wouldn't, just no. The door opens again and I feel the air become thick.

"Girl, sit."

My eyes widen and I turn to the woman, large and round, hair falling down in light blue spirals. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, sit." her voice is more of a growl.

So, I do, hands in my lap. She circles me like a bird to prey, eyeing me up. I instantly shrink under the watch and she hums, but not in agreement but more of disappointment. Does she know? Is she looking at me in disgust?

"Hmm, I suppose this'll do. I'm not dubbed the master for taking on easy work, and this, but far, won't be easy."

* * *

**Lena Romero, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

"Will you stop fighting it!"

"Make me," I growl, crossing my arms across my chest. The man sighs, holding my chariot outfit in his arms. He opens his mouth and I place my hand up. "Fine, on the condition you leave the room."

"I need to make adjustments if it's wrong!"

"I'll tell you if it's wrong!" I argue. "Now, leave!"

He makes a disgruntled noise, throwing me the outfit and commenting something about respect and that. I don't really care; I tuned him out the movement he started to tell me what to do. I'm not against authority - far from it - but since the show is all about me, apparently, I should be allowed to throw a fit if I'm not happy. After all, the Capitol will murder him if he messes up, not me, they've already sussed that one out by reaping me. I know it was Peacekeeper Hector's fault. He's always had a grudge against me for no apparent reason. I done what I did for reasons; reasons that adults will never understand.

I slowly slip myself into the outfit, groaning when I find out that, once again, it's a scarecrow. Oh, but a scarecrow with a difference. This scarecrow outfit is a checkered shirt and with tiny, miniscule denim shorts, no doubt to glorify my age and gender. I wonder if Bracken's got the same? He's muscular and lean for his age - only a year younger - so maybe his is full of sex appeal, too? I don't know. I stand there, when a tiny knock pounds on the door.

"Do you need adjustments?"

I smirk. "Yes, everything. I'm small for my age, not a hippo!"

I can hear him squeak in apparent response and he scutters away, footsteps tiny and barely audible until he disappears. I smile, more deflated this time. I really don't want to be here. I can't afford to be here, to not come home; all the children, my tiny little children, they all need me. They wouldn't be able to cope in the conditions they live. I was whipped for them; and I'd do it again. I'd do anything, bend my heart and soul for them and more. My hand traces my back rather awkwardly, over the many tiny bumps and scars. Anything for them.

The door swings open.

"I will fix it!"

"It's not broken," I shake my head, rolling my eyes. "It's fine. Glorified, but fine."

"I'm trying to make you stand out amongst twenty-two others!" he argues back.

"Does that mean Bracken has something similar?"

He smirks. "Oh yes, most definitely. You will die once you've seen what Bracken is wearing."

"Is that suppose to be a hint? Cause, you know, I think you don't need to be explaining the rules of the Hunger Games to me. I think everyone understands only one lives."

He gasps again. "I am so sorry! I did- I mean, I didn't mean to make you feel not- well, not appreciated."

He is so flustered and bright pink, it's very amusing. The man is a simple Capitolite; life untainted or even affected by the Hunger Games. All he has to worry about is what clothes to wear the next day and to keep up with the latest, most ridiculous fashion trend that the Capitol has to offer their little pets. He sits down, fanning himself with his hand. The drama has escalated to him hyperventilating and more than likely having a panic attack. I'm the one that could possibly be dying in a few days, and he is the one that is breathing heavily and acting like there is no air? Ignorant, the lot of them.

* * *

**Ezra Zinnia, District Ten Male.**

* * *

The bright lights shower down on the chariots, golden and shimmering, horses white and black and brown, a mixture to everything. I don't know why, but I'm stunned by the sight; something so pretty before something so gritty. It's a right contrast, but I guess that's the point. Lylac ushers me out, her hands lightly on my shoulders.

"It'll be okay, don't be scared," she whispers into my ear. "Be... be brave."

I nod and gulp down the large lump in my throat, willing my feet forward. Serena comes out the elevator next to us, Sunny stood by her side, impatient. Serena seems much more collected than I assumed from her; her image and looks lead a stereotype, well, at least for me it did. I imagined her crying or breaking down, but she's held strong and semi-confident. Sunny guides her to the chariot that must be ours.

"Lylac, you can leave, it'll be fine." I reassure her. She turns and frowns. "I promise. I'm a big boy."

She smirks, a very knowing smirk. I admitted the truth to Lylac - I didn't really have a choice after my stylist and everything blurted it out to her. It's true, I was born a female and still am a female, but I wear male clothes and have short hair. It's a complexity I've had since I was young; I always felt in the wrong body. Of course, I went to my mom, and she helped me become semi of what I wanted. I couldn't physically become a boy; but mentally and outwardly, I could. I've always been both insecure and light about it all, making jokes and that to ease the unsettling mood. Lylac nods again, turning back to the elevator.

It's ironic I was reaped as a male, though. To get work and earn money for my poor family, I had to be proven as a boy. It's hard, ridiculously hard, for females to gain any kind of work within District Ten - most farmers prefer hard-working, butch males to do the load, not feminine girls. So, my mom simply claimed at the Justice Building that she had recently looked over my birth certificate - so I could work - and found an error; it said I was a female, when I clearly looked like a male. District Ten has always had lacking Peacekeepers, so seeing them in person never aroused any concerns. I was changed to a boy.

"Just stay neutral," Sunny tells Serena warmly. "No smiles and no waving. Look tough and mysterious. Ignore what that prat of a district partner does - only one can win."

"I'm offended," I say when I near, causing Sunny to sigh angrily. "I'm no prat."

Sunny doesn't reply as Serena climbs onto the chariot silently. I can tell almost instantly that me and Serena won't get along - we might be similar, but there will always be something that keeps us apart. It's no major loss; as Sunny said, only one may live. I could try small talk, but what's the point? What can me and Serena bond over without me revealing to her that I'm a girl? Nothing, because I can't. Lylac said that letting people know, means the Capitol will find out, and being tricked won't look too good on them. I have to stay secretive.

Five minutes.

I look up at the noise and climb in after Serena. There's a thick tension between us and I try to shrug it away, the cotton from my sheep costume tilting. My eyes scan the other tributes out of interest and a mixture of wanting to find some allies. That's when she emerges, a beautiful, blonde-haired girl, large, crystal blue eyes staring into space. Her costume is something of a bird; colourful feathers and patterns, but still looking relatively pretty. She's just plain pretty. She makes it work.

She crosses the room and climbs onto the chariot two in front. District Eight. Challis, I think her name was. Her partner looks none to pleased as he climbs in next to her, angrily swiping at the feathers that stick out of place or fall into his eyes. She turns, large eyes glossed over, and she finds me. I crack a smile and she responds, much more brighter than mine.

One minute.

I scan the area and notice some more tributes; District Seven are billowing willows, outfits a diluted grey and sage coloured leaves hanging from their arms, legs and hat. The two small children from District Three are giant remotes, outfits large and boxy, red and yellow buttons scattered across their chests. Another one catches my eye. A small, redhead girl, walking and climbing up onto her chariot, outfit shimmering underneath the light. It's silver and glassy looking, a thick, black tyre for a hat. Transportation. District Six.

The doors slide open teasingly and our chariot lurches forward.

Smile, Ezra, smile.

* * *

**Quinlan Nour, District Nine Male.**

* * *

The boy from Eight growls loudly above the noise of a cheering audience. I crack a smirk as his chariot lurches forward, catching him off-balanced. He flounders forward, smacking his chest into the metal bars meant to keep us up. He swears, once again very loud, and his district partner is visibly intimidated.

I turn to Fay as our chariot follows forward. She doesn't look as scared as I thought she would; her body is tense and held strong, and I can see the way her eyes waver, but she's holding better than I thought. But that doesn't prove anything; just because she's holding on strong now, doesn't mean she can handle the arena or even training. Poor Fay; she's a bloodbath and she doesn't even know it. I'm not saying I'll make it - though it's likely - but Fay has proven that she's not capable nor ready.

Worse of all, on the train, Bailey and Buck tried to get us to pair up together. I remember Fay staying quiet, staring into her food. I downright refused, telling both the mentors clearly that I will win and I'll do it alone; I wasn't having Fay dragging me down because she's not capable. Besides that, I chose to ignore whatever Bailey or Buck said.

The sound of cheering increases and a blinding light takes away my vision.

I peel my eyes open after a few seconds, the array of colours in the crowd bounding up and down in excitement. Stupid people. They find this all fun? How about they come down here and try it out? I hear a few names get called out - Fawn, Ransom, Percival, Theon, Serena, Ewan and a few more. I don't hear mine nor Fay's, and I don't hear Ezra. Out of all the reapings, beside Fay and myself, Ezra was the only name I remembered. Why? Well, who wouldn't remember the feminine boy climbing onto the stage? His name will go down in history whether he wins or dies, more likely the latter.

I turn around and admire his outfit just carefully, alongside his district partner.

They're sheep; white suits, white headgear, everything to resemble fluffy cotton. I would laugh at them if I thought it'd make me feel better - but it wouldn't, because me and Fay are dressed as sugar cane, brown dotted with white and flowering hats. Everyone but the Careers and maybe a district like Six look ridiculous.

Favouritism. Poor favouritism. I don't care if they deny it, it's obvious. Careers are the Capitol's little pets, whilst Six has that eighteen year old, a guy who will no doubt woo the ladies from his obvious masculinity.

The chariots slow down a tad as we near the circle. Each chariot parts in a different direction, and as Eight go right, we go left.

I find myself staring at the Seven chariot, a clear contrast in the male and female. She's short and looks reasonably scared - not overly terrified, but scared - whilst he looks angry and cocky, all rolled into one. He winks at some woman in the audience, and she spectacularly faints at the mere action. Another idiot, obviously.

President Esmeralda Snow stands up, proceeding to her podium. Her white dress flows greatly and a white rose, tinted with emerald green, sits in both her hair and dress pocket. The last chariot, District Twelve in the infamous miner costumes, rolls in and sits opposite us. I stare at the male and female once more whilst President Snow begins her speech.

I hear her mention several things about the Dark Days and the darker times when her grandfather ruled.

She smiles and welcomes us like we came here by choice. I scoff and try to keep my eyes everywhere but her. The almighty President is nothing more than a woman who hides behind a podium and a name. Five minutes within a district as poor as Nine and she would have an aneurism. In fact, she's never, ever came to District Nine as far as I know - most likely because of Buck being a fated figure. I would have known if she bothered; my mother would instantly tell me, her job as a Peacekeeper being dignified. How does she feel now, knowing her son is in the Games? She probably doesn't care - her darling daughter will keep her satisfied concerning children.

My father, on the other hand, was over the moon. Working in District Two for some time, he wanted a Career child very enthusiastically, and trained me like one. I'm not a Career, though. I might have run hard a few hours a week, but that was it; I quickly grew disinterested and shunned his attitude. Just another reason to prefer Azelie over me. She'll be whatever they want her to be. Frankly, I'm glad to be away from them all.

* * *

**Anubis Cotton, District Eight Male.**

* * *

The moment our chariot goes through the Remake Center's doors once more, I sigh heavily. Stupid costume and stupid stylist. I told her over and over again, the feathers are ridiculous but she wouldn't listen. Challis just smiles sadly from my side.

"What now?" I growl as we come to a stop.

"Nothing," she squeaks. "The lights are really bright."

"Well done genius," I roll my eyes, watching Velvet and Chiffon come over, neutral expressions. "Get me away from here now."

"Don't be snarky." Chiffon warns.

"Bite me." I reply.

I jump off the chariot, hitting the ground with a thump. A few feathers come loose, floating to the floor around us. Challis kindly accepts Velvet's hand and lowers herself onto the floor. I turn around, watching the Careers begin to gather with a few of their mentors. The female from One and the boy from Two talk quietly, and not far from them, District Four argues and bickers, mentors stood behind their respective tribute and watching with heated glares. These are the people we should fear? Honestly, they look like nothing more than brats. Looking at the boy from One fills me with a burning disgust; him, a Career? Someone needs to build a bridge and then cross it, because he's way in over his head, and that much is obvious.

"Anubis Cotton, come on." Chiffon snaps her fingers at me like a dog.

Anubis Cotton. Even I hate my own name. Anubis is something so powerful and dreadful - a name meaning death - whilst my last name is Cotton, something bland and distasteful. It pretty much sums up my family; a family with wealth on their side, children with odd names combined with the tacky family name. Maybe it's to show contrast or maybe it's to show how they try to be better than other people, but lack of the obvious brains for the task.

I follow, despite not wanting to. Chiffon and Challis climb into their respective elevators, whilst I follow Velvet into mine. She doesn't say anything; mild and meek Velvet isn't all that prepared for this job, so why say something when she knows the odds? I have a chance, though, a higher than normal chance. Challis, on the other hand, is so pretty and clueless, it's like she was labelled for the bloodbath. The elevator hums as it ascends onto our floor.

"I'm going to enter the Careers," I state plainly, watching Velvet turn to me with a mixture of disgust and confusion in her eyes. "You heard me. I'm going to join the Careers this year. Screw it, I'll be leader of the Careers. They all look so pathetic, I might as well spice it up otherwise it'll look bad on them."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Velvet asks quietly.

"The greatest idea, dear Velvet," I smirk. "My ideas are never bad."

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Velvet seems too shocked to move her legs forward, and I quickly depart and leave her in the wake of my announcement. The doors for the other elevator open up, too, but I ignore them. I grab an apple off the table and walk to my room, also ignoring Chiffon calling after me.

Nearly every year, District Eight is a joke. We make textiles, clothes for people, and we're often or not thought of us as poor and useless. Without us, everyone would be naked, have they thought about that? Nobody needs District Seven, for example. Trees are everywhere; they don't need an entire district dedicated to it. This year, District Eight won't be a joke. This year, District Eight will be memorable. This year, the Careers will have a proper, more calculating leader. I fall on my bed and smirk, taking a bite of the apple.

This year will be the greatest of them all; after all, Anubis has finally arrived.

* * *

**Laurel Aston, District Seven Female.**

* * *

I watch with amusement as Ewan sits there, hand propping up his head, sweet talking the avox, Kelliana. His eyes are charming and wide, smile pressed into a flirtatious smirk. Does he even realise that Kelliana can't speak? Probably does - I expect the mayor's son to have many upon many catering for the family. When I stood on the stage, I knew from the name who he was; I just didn't expect him to be as vicious as he seemed. Then, we get here, I learn that Ewan isn't as bad as he seems.

"Ewan, behave," Maple rolls her eyes from across the table as she butters her piece of bread. "She isn't going to reply."

Ewan just glares, but by the time he looks back, the much older Kelliana has disappeared from sight and mind.

"Thanks, Maple."

"No problem kid." Maple falsely smiles.

I keep in the background and watch the pair converse slowly, despite the fact that Maple assigned herself to me whilst Spruce chose Ewan. Then again, where even is Spruce? Probably either sleeping in or flirting with Kelliana straight after. Something I've learned almost instantly - Ewan and Spruce were cut from the same cloth. I smirk as Maple looks at me.

"Oi, kid, you got anything interesting you want to share too?" she asks with a laugh in her voice.

"Nope," I shake my head. "You can continue talking about Ewan's failed attempt at that."

Ewan glares at me and I smile in response. "Be quiet, pipsqueak."

"No thanks." I wink.

Spruce's laugh cuts through the air, and as I turn around, he stands proud at the doorway to his bedroom. His hair is ruffled and his night shirt is askew. Maple frowns and points out his dreadful attire, but he waves it off and clambers into the seat next to Ewan rather sluggishly. We sit and eat for a while - Spruce a lot louder than the rest of us - and me and Maple strike up a conversation on strategies. I plan to go in on my own; it sounds stupid because of my age, but I've always been a tad reckless, and if so, I don't want someone else to suffer because of it. Maple soon ushers us up and Spruce waves lazily as me and Ewan enter the elevator.

"Any ideas for allies?" I ask once the doors are closed.

Ewan shrugs carelessly and smirks. "Not really. But, you know, whatever happens, happens. I won't be chasing anyone to join me; they'll have to ask as kindly as possible."

"What was that noise?"

"What noise?"

"Oh, it was just the sound of your head getting bigger," I joke, watching Ewan's smirk become more defiant and wider. He playfully smacks me as the doors opens. "Good luck."

Ewan ruffles my hair. "And you. Just remember, though, that I'm about to steal the show, and you better be prepared."

"What do you mean by that?" I ask as innocently as I can sound - I understand, but it's much more amusing to find out if Ewan thinks of himself as highly as he seems to act it. He smirks once again and seems to understand my words, too. "Okay, I'm sorry. Have fun."

Ewan walks off with a stride in his step towards the group of tributes. I follow, warily, and eye each one up. The girl from Eight seems to stare around with wide, glossy eyes, whilst her district partner holds his posture tall and mighty, a confident smirk on his face. The little kids from Three stand next to each other, silently arguing and whispering, all in one. The boy is my age, I know that, but the girl is the youngest of all the tributes. The head trainer introduces himself as Maestro, and from his looks and standing, I can tell he's young and new.

"Today will be the first day of what could be your saviour," Maestro starts. "Your life will be saved from something in this room. I suggest you find it and try."

* * *

**Theon Sykes, District Six Male.**

* * *

Maestro stays on the stage, but dismisses us quickly. I'm also confused - shouldn't our induction be a bit more lengthy?

Everyone scatters in different directions, desperate to find that thing that Maestro says will save us.

I close my eyes and try my hardest to stop staring at the two little kids from District Three as they ran towards the gauntlet. They are two of the three youngest - alongside the girl from Seven - but seem much smaller and frail. Every time I stare at either of them, I can only ever think of Keane and Robyn, possibly what they might grow up to be. Both of them are young, not even really toddlers, but they could look like those two. My heart yearns for the family I've created, and right at this moment, I know what it's like to be one of the parents watching their child walk to the stage. What if in a few years, Keane gets reaped? Or even Robyn?

I shake my head and try to remember the picture Keane had drew me this morning - he handed it to me as my token. It was of me and Savannah, Keane's tiny hand latched into mine and Robyn, folded up in blankets, in Savannah's arms. Our perfect family before it was ripped apart.

No. No, don't think like that. You will go home because you have what it takes. To think, by winning, I could provide better for them.

My hand wraps around the mace and pulls it off the handle. It's pretty light compared to what I thought, and with a heavy swing, I bring it behind my shoulder and then slam it forward. It slams against the ground and causes it to quake just a little bit. I smirk, and try again, putting more strength into it. I push thoughts of my children away and try to focus more on my actions. After a while, I put it back, collecting a sword and trying again. I slice a dummy and watch as white, fluffy cotton rains to the floor.

My eyes scan around as I look up, and I notice Justice's bright red hair in the corner, eyes focusing in on the poisonous plants section.

"Attention tributes!" Maestro shouts. "A new station has been organised. It's suggested you take a look - it could be vital."

I frown and place the sword back. No other tribute seems particularly interested in the announcement since none stopped and looked, but as I walk over to the new station, I notice the boy from Five already there. Stellan, I think his name was.

"What's this then?" Stellan asks the trainer.

"These are animals, boy," the trainer growls in response. "You learn them and find out about them. You never know, it could be a hint."

"You know service is suppose to be done with a smile, right?"

The trainer just growls and walks away from the station, taking a seat. Stellan flicks through the book that was handed to him and I stand by his side, curiously watching over his shoulder. Stellan smirks and places the book in the middle of us. I glance down at the book, then up to his eyes, and then his hair - it doesn't seem as bright as it did on the television.

"If you wanted to share, all you had to do was ask." Stellan says, a smirk evident in his smile.

"Thanks," I respond and flick the next page, scanning what seems to be a bird with large, thin legs and bright, pink feathers. "I'm Theon, by the way."

"Stellan," he responds. "And that's a flamingo."

"How'd you know?"

Stellan taps the side of his nose and smiles confidently. "Become my ally and I guess you'll find out."

* * *

**India Cross, District Five Female.**

* * *

I watch as the boy from Eleven runs down the gauntlet. My eyes are wide, and standing alongside the little children from Three, I clap when he lands on the next platform. I shouldn't be cheering on the competition; but when he done as good as he did, you can't help it. He takes a bow, playing up to the attention and smirking, before walking away and kicking over a rubber cylinder for the track. The little girl goes next and manages to get about quarter of the way, before a soft paddle swings into her back and she flounders towards the floor. She gets up, unfazed, and watches her district partner get just a little further than her, before the paddle finds his knees and forces him to bow onto the floor.

"You up next, girl?" the trainer asks, a mixture of a growl and a rasp.

I nod in response and walk to the beginning. The woman helps me up with a calloused hand, and I stand, legs and arms ready to pump.

"Nervous?" she rasps again.

"Very, very nervous," I reply honestly. "Did you know you sound like a man? You might want to drink some water or something, your voice is going croaky an-"

A buzzer rings, startling me out of my words. I run, pumping my arms and legs, leaping across the small gap and landing perfectly. Easy enough; so I go again, this time, a white paddle flying up, clipping me in the shoulder. I fall, landing on the next platform, still in the game. I mentally cheer myself and stand up, surprised to see another paddle come flying at my face. I don't have time to dodge, and it smacks me in the face, forcing me to the floor. This time I can't stay on, sliding off and landing on the mat below.

"Out!" the woman calls. "Boy, you're next."

I blink a few times and stand up, noticing the boy from Nine move along quickly, a bored look on his face. He turns and smirks at me as he climbs up, not accepting help. He waits a moment, the trainer says go, and he runs. He leaps the first and second platforms easily, dodging the paddles almost animal-like, but when he reaches the third, a paddle flies into his gut. He winces, but carries on, skipping over three, four and five with ease. The last platform, six, is a surprise, and two paddles come out and double smack him around the head. He staggers and falls off, not completing the course.

"And you thought you could do better," I say as dusts down his outfit. "Your smirk shouldn't have said otherwise. In all honesty, I think it's rather rude of you to judge me on my performance."

"Whatever." he rolls his eyes.

I narrow my own and step forward as he begins to stand up. "That's rude also. I get it, you're mean, but there's no need to be a jerk to complete strangers."

"Do you honestly hear yourself?" he laughs.

I stand my ground and clench my fists, not one for violence normally. He walks away with swaying arms and head held high, going towards his district partner. She visibly shrinks when he reaches her, trying to blend in with the station she's chosen to go to. He doesn't do or say anything; she does it on almost impulse. My head is filled with many questions and I begin to walk over casually, spotting the boy from Twelve watching me from his sat down position in the corner.

"Hi, I'm India," I say when I get near, not surprised to see the girl's eyes widen in shock.

She doesn't say anything for a while, a calm pause between us, before she speaks up timidly. "Fay."

"Well, Fay, I think we could be friends," I smile. "Yeah?"

Fay nods in a confused response and I hear a boy laugh from nearby. I turn to see her district partner, once more, staring from afar with his eyes locked on both me and Fay. Without warning, my middle finger rises and shows off to him, before my other hand wraps around Fay's shoulders and leads her away. She is my ally, now, and I'll do what I can to protect her.

* * *

**Percival Harlin, District Four Male.**

* * *

Our alliance is pretty pathetic, in all honesty. You have Kit, nothing but an athletic, over-excited child. Fawn, who looks like she might break if she even stood up too quickly. Ransom, with his odd kindness and Minerva, who seems kinda okay but relatively snobby. Then, to top it off, Odette; aggressive, bitchy, like an animal. Really, who the hell would be our leader? I certainly don't want that - the leader gets turned on quite quickly and frankly, I'm probably too good for the post. Fawn, Kit and Ransom are easily a no, whilst no-one would trust Minerva or Odette.

Basically, our alliance this year seems to be odd and very different. No-one is going to get on, because for each positive, there's about ten negatives.

I stand there in the middle of the room, watching each of my allies do something. Ransom and Minerva head in one direction, Kit in another, Fawn and Odette in a third direction. I laugh when I realise that we haven't even had a group meeting - statistics show we all ally up, and they know that, since no-one has actually spoke. Creek advised me about knowing everything about them and giving them nothing to work with - all whilst Odette and River began calculating and planning everything apart from us.

I stride over to the rapiers - my favourite weapons - and grab the heaviest one off the rack. I can handle all sizes. I smirk and jolt the rapier out, letting it sink into the gut of the nearest dummy. I close my eyes and imagine it as Odette, her tiny eyes watching me with agony. I peel open my eyes and rip the rapier back out, grinning.

Odette doesn't even realise that her volunteering will be the death of her. My toys rarely survive after a week of me playing with them.

With my rapier in hand, I begin to walk over to Odette, who slides an arrow into the bow.

"Hi Odette," I say as sweetly as I can muster. "I just wanted to see how you were doing."

She turns around and glares, evil eyes trying to narrow in and slice open my skull. "Go away, you little freak."

"That's rather rude, I just wanted to apologise about the reaping and everything," I lie, tilting my head innocently as her eyes narrow even tighter. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot; I just got so excited and absorbed by the attention, I acted awful to you. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, sure, okay then," Odette responds coldly. "I know your game, Percival, I'm no idiot."

My eyes flash from sweet to sour within a second. "You really, really, really don't."

"Hmm, keep saying that to yourself. Maybe if you repeat it enough, it'll fill that big head of yours and actually get through."

"Oh Odette, so witty," I laugh, a dark chortle escaping my throat. Odette flinches a little, but her eyes never waver. "But, as I said, I'm truly, truly sorry for any bad blood between us that I might've caused."

I walk away before Odette can even answer, proud that my trap has been set. It'll take a while, but it'll work. I've never not been able to win people over. Sure, saying what I did during the reapings was both stupid and fun, but I can handle it. I just have to play it cool with her - distant and cold when around others, but speak more kindly to her in person, maybe with a twinge of darkness in my voice. If I can't sweeten and lull her into a false sense of security, I'll intimidate her into jumping off of the plate at the bloodbath.

I'm fine with either happening - I have plenty other toys to play with if this one breaks easily.

* * *

**Terris Avar, District Three Male.**

* * *

After a while, I managed to escape Nova. There's nothing wrong with her - and Bolt and Mercury were keen to pair us up as allies - but we're very different, and that, well, that causes some friction. On the first night, me and Nova spent a while arguing over the fact that Bolt has many children he looks after, whilst Mercury has none. She claimed it was because she was infertile, whilst Nova's more blunt words were 'dried up'.

"Hi there kid," the trainer smiles kindly. "What can I help you with to?"

"Can I have some wires maybe?" I ask, as kind as possible.

He smiles once more and bends down to collect something from underneath the station. I patiently wait and look around, finding Nova over near poisonous plants. She's joined at the station with the girl from Nine, who meekly slides leaves around. Nova turns and smiles rather cunningly, but I've learned she's socially inept, so it's probably by accident. Nova knows about my plan to use explosives; it's obvious since, you know, my love for fireworks and such. My district feared me for no apparent reason - then again, District Three is smart, but both socially awkward and socially unaccepting. Anyone who acts remotely differently are often frowned upon.

"Here you go young man."

"Thank you," I smile kindly, accepting the wires in my hands. "Do you have any small, electrical objects? Like balls or debris?"

His eyebrows furrow but he bends down and looks again. "Awfully strange request."

"Sorry," I say to his muted voice. "Just an idea of mine."

"Lets hope it works," he says, appearing with a tennis ball-shaped object that he hands to me. "I'm sure it'd be exciting to watch."

I nod politely and excuse myself, heading out to a small corner. I plug the connector in and begin to loop the wires in and around the small orb. After a while, I sigh, flicking the switch and watching it crackle to life with electricity. The ball is ignited by the volts; my hand obviously away from the object so I don't get electrocuted. Back in Three, I tried to create my own fireworks - for fun, honestly.

"That looks weird."

I look up to Nova's voice. "It's an idea of mine."

"What if you can't get hold of all that?" she questions.

"I will," I wave her off. "What have you got for this alliance, then?"

"Things," Nova smirks. "Sorry, but it's a secret. I'll tell you later when no-one is around."

By that, she means the girl from Nine, who looks at her from over her shoulder solemnly. The girl seems weak, so it's no problem, but then again, looking at me and Nova, you'd think the same. I guess I shouldn't judge; I'm small and young, and yet, if everything works, I might have a good offense in my hands. If I don't have this, I'll go to fire. That's my second best attack. And, of course, whatever Nova might bring to the table.

"Fair enough," I smile as Nova sits down. She picks at a stray wire on the floor, and I slap her hand. "Don't touch it."

* * *

**Minerva Li, District Two Female.**

* * *

"Don't pick that one," I say mindlessly, still looking at my nails. I know what Ransom is doing, though, and that's picking the largest, most deadliest looking sword he can handle. "Sweetheart, you'll look like an idiot trying to swing and swipe with something twice as heavy as you."

"Compared to the girl checking out her nails?" Ransom shoots back.

"Touche."

As Ransom pulls the sword off the rack - though he told Tarzana that he prefers knives - I look out at my fellow Careers. Kit runs through the gauntlet with ease, jumping and leaping through the air like a half-monkey creature, landing perfectly. So, his strength seems to athleticism. Not far from him, Fawn tries tying some knots and making a net. Odette lets the arrow ping from her bow and it flies across the air, landing specifically in the middle, wooden end quivering. Where is Percival?

"Hello there Minerva," I hear Percival say sarcastically, stepping out from behind the rack. "Having fun?"

"So much fun, sweet," I glare. "And what about you, Percy?"

He smirks and nods. "Yeah, yeah this is a lot of fun. Much more fun being with anyone but Odette; the girl is as boring as sin."

"I can tell. You two don't seem to be that fond of each other."

Percival smirks again. "Obvious is it?"

"One moment dear Percy," I say, turning to Ransom. "Are you sure you should be eavesdropping? I don't think it makes you that trustworthy, sweetheart."

Ransom seems taken aback by the comment and quickly shrugs it off, placing the sword back on the rack and walking away with shoulders slumped. I know Ransom from being in the year below me, but as far as I know from Signus, my trainer and another Victor, Ransom can't be one of the top fighters. Every week, Signus informs our class of who underneath us is stronger than us; Ransom has never made it against me, so I already know I'm going to last longer than him. Percival smiles again, a very condescending, snarky smile.

"Did you want to spar?" Percival asks. "We can try it - I prefer rapiers but I'll dumb myself down for you."

"What a gentleman," I roll my eyes, collecting the first sword. "But, I should warn you, I'll be able to kick your ass easily."

"Maybe," Percival winks. "Ready?"

"Ready."

We parry our swords against each other, the sound of metal ringing out. A trainer appears in the corner of my view, carefully watching us. We're both trained - at least I presume Percival is - but I suppose rules are rules. Us Careers are so dastardly, they might think we'd try and kill each other off before the real fun begins. But, what is an unarmed, defenseless trainer going to do against two teens handling swords with ease? Percival does nothing but smile as he counters me each time. What a little prick. Anger flares me and I push myself harder, slamming the blade into him with more pressure. He handles it well, sliding down with the weapon and then pushing himself up. He does it with so much force, it forces me back, and that's when his leg jerks out and his boot collides with my knee. I fall to the floor, face burning with both embarrassment and annoyance.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're good, but I'm better," Percival laughs, as a trainer's hand roams my body. I push it away and stand up, staring Percy down. "That was a fun game, I like you, Minerva."

With his final word hanging in the air, Percival drops the sword carelessly and begins to walk away, a stride in his step. The trainer collects it and sighs heavily, placing it back on the rack, all whilst I'm stood in the middle of the mat, staring at the space that Percival once occupied. I hate him. I hate him already. I hear footsteps come from behind, and instantly know it's Ransom from the sounds of the stomps.

"What do you want now?" I snap.

"Don't pick that one," Ransom starts, mimicking me in his own way. "Sweetheart, you'll look like an idiot trying to swing and swipe something more heavy than you."

* * *

**Fawn Asprey, District One Female.**

* * *

I smirk as Percival walks away from Minerva, leaving her both ashamed and embarrassed. I already know I don't like her; Minerva reminds me of some people in District One, and I don't like them either. There's just something about her attitude that really makes me wonder if she should be here, or alive, for that matter.

She was trained at the Training Center, big deal, the rest of us went to luxurious, expensive places to train and become machines.

No, that's a lie. I wasn't; I trained myself with anything I could find, though I can easily handle a sword and such. Again, another lie, since I can't do much except lie my way out of everything that I come across. No-one needs to know that, though. Augustus questioned me thoroughly, asking me why he hasn't seen such a beautiful creature around his academy before. Of course, I lied, telling him that I've recently dyed my hair and that's probably why. I don't need to go anywhere near the filthy man; I know I have no tact, but I mean, the man is a bastard, plain and simple. By the time I actually got to see Sheer, my mentor, she had glass eyes that kept rolling into her head. It wasn't hard, either, to notice the many tiny little holes that lined her arm.

Augustus didn't even seem ashamed as he carried Sheer into her bedroom and tucked her in. Everyone knows that she's a prostitute to Augustus' ways, like many Victors end up. Tassle King, too, ended up that way, trying to inject the needle anywhere but the obvious places, just to avoid suspicious looks.

But I wouldn't have volunteered without knowledge - I'm not the Kingston Academy's property, so I don't have to bow down to that wretched man. Although, he thinks I am, so that might be a problem.

I dance through the remaining hours of training, watching people gather together for lunch and so forth. The Careers all sit together, but I stick with Kit on one end of the table. Out of them all, Kit is probably the only one whom I could care a tiny bit about. Percival is an interesting creature, too, but I've worked his little psychopathic game already. The beauty of being a talented liar? I can spot the crap ones.

"We still need a leader," Percival speaks up, jamming a piece of fish into his mouth. He chews and then swallows, pointing his fork at Minerva. "Any ideas, Minerva?"

"None, doll," Minerva scowls. "Maybe we should just work as loners."

"Break this pack up before we've reached the arena? Yeah, wise idea," Odette rolls her eyes. "I suggest myself."

"Why you? Why not me?" Minerva counters.

"You just basically declined the position," Odette smirks. "Anyone against that idea? If so, please raise your hands, children."

Almost instantly, me, Ransom and Kit shoot our hands up, definitely against her having any control over this alliance. I don't know whether I like her or not, but either way, she'll probably run us into the ground quicker than we started. She glares at the hands raised upwards and proceeds to pout, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"Fine, but don't come crying to me when it all goes wrong." she moans.

We sit in silence for a little longer, my eyes watching Kit's plate as he scoops up some peas and eats them. Then, he seems to groan, tenderly massaging his muscle joints.

"You okay?" I ask, eyes narrowing on his body. Out of us all, Kit seemed the most physically fit, and now that seems a bit far-fetched to think about.

"I'm fine," he smiles weakly. "Just think I pulled something during the gauntlet. You okay? I didn't see you pick up any weapons today."

I nod in response, knowing that he's lying. I basically wrote the book on it, I know when someone is telling the truth or not. "Oh, I didn't feel the need to. I've trained so much for this at Kingston Academy that I thought it would be best to just watch, not show off."

"You attended Kingston Academy?"

"Everyday," I lie, internally wincing as my efforts to bond with someone flounders with a simple lie. "Sometimes I would go for twice as long, just because I was asked to. They adored me and wanted to see more of what I could do."

"Impressive." Kit smiles.

I open my mouth to respond to him, when a tray slams down on the table to my left. I instantly turn, alongside the others, as the male from Eight sits down with a smirk. He nods in Percival's direction and jabs some meat with a fork. "I'm Anubis, and you're most welcome to have me join you."

* * *

**The Fear by Ben Howard.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_Which tributes/POVs stood out to you? Who do you like/hate so far from just this instalment?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**I don't hate you guys... I just, I apologise for the length once more. I'm much more proud of this chapter, but thank you for the warming reviews :')**

**This length might happen whilst I'm in the Capitol...**

**Three more chapters - and, well, yeah. This'll be so hard, I can already tell. I love you all! If your tribute was presented as one of the twelve POV's in this leg (leg one), can you tell me how the portrayal went? Some I feel okay about, some I feel a little worried that I've done it wrong...**

**The next chapter will start with Twelve and work downwards. I felt like a bit of a change. :)**


	5. Collide

**Collide.**

_Even the best fall down sometimes, even the stars refuse to shine._

* * *

**Colton Dacanay, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

There's a soft knock at my door, and slowly, I peel myself from the covers and drag myself across the room. Swinging it open, my eyes are blasted by our escort, Evangeline's bright hair. She furries her eyebrows and taps the door frame repeatedly with her fingernails, sharpened and painted a bright, sickly green.

"Can I help you?" I mumble, using my fist to rub my eyes.

"You, young man, should have been ready about an hour ago," Evangeline tuts. "Katerine is already at the breakfast table and is prepared to go down!"

"Katerine?"

"That's her name, isn't it?" Evangeline flusters.

"She prefers Katey," I yawn, laughing at the end when I see Evangeline's eyes draw in confusion. "I've talked to her; she prefers Katey."

"Well I prefer Katerine." she counters.

"I don't think it matters what you prefer, Evangeline."

Evangeline narrows her eyes at me. "Are you going to get dressed or not? Training starts again in an hour, and you should at least have breakfast before you go down."

"Like fattening a lamb to the slaughter." I whisper as I turn around and proceed to throw on some clothes. I can see Evangeline flare her eyes in disgust, and I sigh, stopping midway through my pants. "What now?"

"Aren't you going to bathe?" she asks.

"No?" I respond, not even sure that's the answer. Stupid Evangeline and her stupid, narrow-minded, Capitolite ways. "Why, do you think I need to smell nice to throw some weapons around?"

"It would be a bonus," Evangeline sneers. "Now hurry up; Katerine is waiting for you."

She disappears from my doorway and I sigh again, throwing my pants on and popping the button. I admire myself for a moment in the mirror before walking out. Katey sits at the table alongside Crispin, but my mentor, Peeta, is nowhere to be seen. Doesn't surprise me - Evangeline mentioned him having a rough time nearly every year. Crispin meekly slides a plate of toast underneath my noise and I instantly feel queasy.

"Definitely not hungry," I mumble, avoiding Evangeline's death stare. "Anything else that isn't so nauseating?"

"It doesn't matter, Colton," Evangline speaks up. "You have to go down for training, now."

Katey rises on command, though from her eyes, I can tell she isn't happy. Katey is a strange girl - we don't talk that much, but I've learned that she's very independent, rather friendly, and maybe even a tad mature. Last night, she waited for me as I came up the elevator, asked me how I did and everything. There was something there, though, in her eyes just lingering in the background. Maybe it was insecurity or fear or something else, I don't know, but I got the feeling that she wanted me to stay and talk to her some more. I don't know; she's confusing.

I throw myself up, too, and grab a banana from under Crispin's nose. He recoils almost instantly; I guess the nightmare of winning last year didn't seem so great, then.

I follow Katey to the elevator, and when I'm in, she presses the button to close the door. She doesn't say anything and I get the feeling she wants me to start a conversation. I don't know what to talk about - I've never been that great of a conversationalist. She sighs and holds her hand to her chest as the doors slide open, a mechanical whirl as they spit the scenery of the training centre at us. Katey lingers once more but eventually gives up, walking out into the open. I wait a little longer before doing the same. I need someone, most definitely. Maybe not Katey because the whole one winner, two from a district thing is cliché and hard.

But allies, I do need. I scan the area and eventually find the perfect allies; two girls.

* * *

**Bracken Mathis, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

Lena's gone before I'm even awake. I drag myself from my room, surprised to see only Ida sat at the table, no Mako. You'd think our mentors were inseparable, but, alas, they do have other lives to attend to. Ida majorly glares as I walk out. So far, she isn't the biggest fan for my "vulgar" behaviour, as she put it. Mako said something about Ida being very laid back and chill, except a boy who seems to act bigger than their boots. Something tells me that it was a dig at myself, but who cares.

"Morning dear Ida," I call, grabbing a muffin from the table and then sitting opposite her. "No Mako or Lena?"

"Lena went down on time," Ida replies, head scanning the newspaper in her lap. Newspaper? From the Capitol? Guess their lives are that unimportant, then. "Of course, Mako went with her. I was waiting for you, but you know, you wouldn't wake up."

I vaguely remember someone trying to wake me up, but I think I just rolled over and cursed about it being too early.

"Oh yeah, I'm sorry." I frown playfully, not exactly meaning my words.

"I'm only trying to help you kid."

"Don't bother," I shrug it off. "I'm more than capable of doing things my way. You know, my way, since that's the only freedom I'm allowed anymore."

That's all the Capitol has done for me - strip me of my freedom and then force me through cleaning, makeovers, chariots and costumes and now pointless training. One rule after the other, and damn, I just hate rules. That, and the Capitol has beautified me into a shell of my former self. Before, I was a wild boy, hair untamed and dirt under my nails. Now, I'm their doll, clean as a whistle and smelling of roses.

"Don't start again Bracken. Do you want to go down or not?"

I stand up. "I don't exactly have a choice now, do I? If I don't go down, I'm sure some burly Peacekeeper will drag me down, kicking and screaming."

I walk out the room before Ida can reply, feeling slightly bad but overall happy. I know it's not exactly Ida's fault I'm here - she was too many years ago - but it's theres. The stupid government that controls the whole of Panem with greedy, chubby, iron fists made of stupidity. I angrily throw some clothes on, stopping at my mirror. I grab some gel from the dresser and smear it along the mirror. There, they can have that. I walk back out my room and ignore Ida's moaning, flipping her the finger and swiping my hand across the table, catching a glass bowl of fruit that spectacularly flies to the floor and shatters.

The elevator takes me down and I press all the buttons involved as I step out, making sure to hopefully break the thing.

They want to tame the wild boy? I'd like to see them try. With my head held high, I walk out into the training center, lights streaming down. A few tributes are already there, like Lena or the pair from Twelve, as well as a few Careers, but it's relatively empty. When Lena stares at me, I smirk, and she nods knowingly. When more tributes press in, I smirk at each one, making sure that they notice me and what I'm doing. Some, like the little girl from Seven, I make sure to blow her a kiss. Not harassing or bullying, simply enjoying myself.

If I'm meant to die at some point, why go down on a bad note? Killing and all that crap isn't for me, but jokes and rebellion are.

When training starts, I instantly find the weakest looking trainer - the girl behind the hammock station - and make it my mission to ensure her misery before lunchtime. Tame me? They can sure as hell try, it will most definitely not work.

* * *

**Serena Pierce, District Ten Female.**

* * *

I carefully bring the knot to my eyes and analyse it. The trainer in front of me seems pleased I chose her station over the more common ones, and I guess I should be pleased to. Ever since training started, I've always gone for the stations away from the other tributes. If a tribute occupies that station, I avoid it, just because I don't want to have to face the people I know need to die. I prefer to be on my own anyway; always have done since everything happened.

"Do you think this is right?" I ask quietly.

The trainer leans forward and examines herself. "Yes, I do believe so. Well done, District Ten."

District Ten. That's how I'll be known to everyone else; District Ten. That's most definitely not a bad thing. If they don't know my name and likewise, there isn't any contact or commitment, and that means everything should be more smoother than I first thought. I hand the trainer my knot and she hands me another piece of rope in response. I should go and train with weapons, probably, but I could also just run around the arena and not fight. I doubt that'll dub me as the Victor, but it's one of the less soul-destroying things I could do.

"Hello girl, would you like a piece of rope too?"

My eyes instantly snap to my side, to see the girl from Twelve, dark hair and pale complexion. She kindly accepts the rope and sits down opposite me. I've always been untrusting since everything happened, and as she begins to twirl the rope, I watch her accusingly. A part of me wants to get up and walk away, go to another station that isn't occupied in any sense. Bugs, yeah, no-one would be there. And yet, as I will my legs to move, I can't. They seem rooted and my mind seems almost wanting. Wanting what? I don't know.

"And now under the hole," the trainers says slowly. "Yes, that's it, that's perfect."

Twelve follows it exactly and a smile cracks on her face. My eyebrows knit in confusion, because, well, as far as I know from observation, Twelve looked more meek and quiet. I guess that was just first day nerves. Twelve, obviously, is a little more determined than looks give her.

"Well done, District Twelve." the trainer repeats.

She walks away, leaving me and Twelve alone. What's her name? I couldn't remember - I don't want to learn anyone's name. It's bad enough that I know Ezra, let alone knowing a girl from another district, another life, tangled together by the fate of the Hunger Games.

"I'm Katey," she says out of the blue, causing me to look up at her. She smiles from her seat and extends her hand. I watch it for a moment, and she jiggles it a little. "It's nice to meet you, Serena."

How does she know my name? Alarms ring in my head and yet, as my hand extends forward cautiously, I'm almost internally screaming for it to recoil. Our hands connect and, yeah, I definitely don't trust her. I watch her eyes to see whether they waver or not, but instead, she just pulls back her hand and continues to smile softly. We sit in silence and do our own things, just in the presence of the other. I can't make my mind shift from the fact that I don't know, I don't know what to make of her. I want to be alone. I want to brave everything by myself and then never witness a death. No attachment means no pain. Yet, Katey is sitting opposite me, and I yearn to get to know one person, just one, and then everything might be okay.

"Do you want to be allies?" I suddenly ask, my lips moving faster than my brain can rationalise.

Do I mean it? I don't know whether to trust her or not, I don't know whether I want to be alone or not, I just don't know. But the words have been spoken and there's no going back.

"Okay," Katey replies, no smile, sounding rather strong. "I'd like that."

We don't shake on it or anything. She goes back to her rope and starts again. I gaze down, anywhere but her eyes. Do I regret my decision? Maybe. I don't know. I can't trust her now - but maybe I can learn to. It work and it might not. But things won't be fixed until I try, even just a little.

If people back in District Ten could see - Serena Pierce isn't an abomination as they all so clearly thought.

* * *

**Fay Amaris, District Nine Female.**

* * *

India keeps her hand locked on mine tight and leads me around. I take deep breaths between my teeth and try to keep calm as we approach the next station India has picked for us. Spears. My eyes grow wide as India lets go and moves forward, accepting the lightest, most speediest spear from the trainer. He watches with a smile as India steps onto the small runway made for testing the weapon.

"Look, Fay, it's really easy. If people like the trainer can throw it, at his age, then we sure as hell can." India beams.

The trainer's smile instantly drops to be replaced by a frown. India runs a few steps and then launches the spear with ease. It flies from her arms and straight into the lower stomach of the soft dummy. Cotton floats down delicately and sitting on the blackened mat as she collects a replica from the man.

"Here, now you try it." India says as she hands me the spear.

It feels weird in my hand, but I try to focus. I try to drown out all of the other noises, like the metal buzz of knives carving air, or the rustle of leaves from the poisonous plants station four over, or the tapping sound of someone running down the gauntlet. In the end, I hear a clatter of more metal hitting the floor and India's frantic hands on my body. My eyes are squeezed shut, so I don't know what she's doing, but I can hear her voice cutting through the rest of the ruckus, penetrating my brain slowly. Struggling, India finally manages to peel my hands from my ears, and with that, I slide my eyes open again.

"That was completely abnormal," India remarks, worry in her eyes. "It's okay, Fay, I'm here for you."

She envelopes me in a sweet hug that kind of suffocates me, but I let her. India has done nothing but be nice to me since the whole Quinlan episode. He does nothing but ridicule me and treat me lower than him. Bailey and Buck noticed it, of course, but they can't stop him, really. They wanted district partners who would work together - and instead, they got me and Quinlan, the latter bullying the former. I sigh and India leads me away from the spears, claustrophobic grip on my wrist once more.

She leads me around the more harmless stations but I continue to wince at the sounds and the sights. I glance at the station where I spoke to the little girl from District Three, who seemed so kind and sweet, it generally broke my heart in two. I would have asked her to join our alliance, but she had her district partner, a perfect little balance.

"Do you ladies need help?" I hear a voice, and India spins me around to see the culprit, the male from District Twelve.

"Being sweet won't win awards." India warns.

He holds his hands up in mock-defense. "Just wanted to see if you needed help. I'm Colton, and, well, I have no allies and you seem kind enough to accept this girl here, I thought you might accept me, too."

He's addressing India as, yes, India did accept me despite my obvious disadvantages, well, everywhere.

"I suppose we can have another ally," India curiously says. "What can you do?"

Colton thinks for a moment and then smiles. "I can make you guys, I mean girls, very happy indeed!"

"That'll do," India smiles warmly. "Welcome to our alliance, Colton."

* * *

**Challis Glenley, District Eight Female.**

* * *

I gaze around at the other tributes, watching each one. I need an ally; any will do, but I need someone. I'm not so used to being on my own and I definitely don't want to be. The arena is not only scary but generally a place where you need someone. I was hoping Anubis might help me out, but instead, he walked off and wanted to join the Careers. Even after he outwardly said that I was destined for the bloodbath and such, I still held onto that hope.

Maybe that makes me an idiot - Anubis was clear to point that out, too.

I gaze around the room, definitely noticing the playful wink thrown at me from the male from District Seven. I gush and toss another load of blonde hair over my shoulder, walking away from him. I can feel his eyes lingering on me and I smile, hidden, loving the minor attention he's showing me.

I stop by the fire-making station and begin to try at that. It takes a while - and some helpful coaxing from the girl from Five - before the amber spark emerges from hiding, igniting the whole of the crisped leaves. The boy from Ten comes to the station, too, his eyes glancing over me as he collects some matches from the trainer. His facial features are extremely pretty; but his eyes are the best. They remind me of my own.

"Mind if I take some of your leaves?" he asks politely.

I giggle and bundle up some, passing them to him. He accepts them gratefully and even blushes a little as his fingers ghost across mine. He sits down and collects them together, striking the match against the box. Ever so often, he glances up and smiles - almost embarrassed - before looking down and continuing. I idly play with my own matches and leaves, watching the fire slowly eat away at the brown and yellow patterns.

He was also the one to smile at me during the chariots. His suit was cute - a little sheep, nose even painted black. I liked it; it made him look nice. He seems really kind. Maybe he'd like to be allies? I'm sure he's talented, and I'm right when the final strike ignites the match, swaying on the light breeze as he drops it into the pile of leaves.

"That was good," I chirp, trying to hide the admiration in my voice. "Really good."

"Thanks," he blushes. "I just watched what you did and then repeated it."

He watched me? "You watched me?"

His face falls grave and the blush creeps back on, clawing at his cheeks and turning them red. He stutters for a moment before deciding that yes, yes he did watch me. He laughs it off and I find myself following along.

"I'm sorry, I just - your eyes, they are really captivating." he gushes.

Then it's my turn to blush. "Thank you. You have pretty eyes, too."

We sit there and talk for a moment, quietly and politely, each taking their turn to blush and giggle quietly. Ezra seems nice, I've learned, almost like a girl's dream best friend that's a guy. In the end, though, he asks me to be his ally, and I gratefully accept, giving him a light hug. The only problem is that me and Ezra isn't enough. I'm used to large crowds and loads of people - two people, for me personally, isn't enough to make me safe and comfortable. I glance around the room again as Ezra strikes the matches once more, finding the same boy and the same wink just two stations away.

"We need another ally Ezra," I say, not missing the fallen expression in his face, just a little. "Lets go!"

* * *

**Ewan Cole, District Seven Male.**

* * *

Laurel is quick to come and go as she pleases. I like Laurel; honestly, I do, but definitely more like the annoying little sister that you want rid of all the time, but that keeps coming back again and again. We go great; not ally-worthy great, but great. Spruce was clear to me not to take Laurel on - and whilst I had no plans to but suddenly felt guilty for not being allowed - I just agreed. Laurel apparently had the same idea, since, you know, she just does what she likes.

The main thing I've learned about the girl is that she's rather... energetic and reckless. Both, actually, like a weird mix. It's like the words jumbled together, had sex, and Laurel was the production. I glance over at her small physique, smiling as she takes on a trainer in hand-to-hand combat. She's quick and agile, like a little chipmunk, but doesn't deal any blows. Each one of her's misses, whilst the trainer misses, too. From a distance, it just looks like two people fighting against air.

I grab the axe from the stand. Throwing it up and down lightly, I aim for my target and release. The metal carves through the air and lands on the dummy's shoulder. Not perfect, but who is?

I don't miss the eyes of the boy from Nine, a few feet away and still throwing knives like he has done the entire time. Worse of all is that, by practice, he's only getting better. Before, his knives barely scratched the target. Now, he's only a few inches from spot-on. Two days it took him to perfect that.

My eyes skip over the girl from Eight and the boy from Ten rather easily. Not on purpose or even through ignorance - though, it can happen from me every so often - but due to her. Eight is just spectacularly beautiful. Her eyes are literally the hottest things I have ever seen.

When I see her form getting up, I begin to panic. Oh crap, not again. Last time I checked a girl out, my crotch was about to explode from the damage she dealt.

I try to make myself look busy and grab another small axe to throw. As I raise it backwards, her golden hair and slim frame is almost right against my own.

"Can I help you?" I say, my voice straight and even. She can't know I was looking, that'd be weird.

"Yes, you can," she replies, her voice sweet like sugar. "I was wondering whether you wanted to be our ally?"

I turn at that. "Our ally?"

The boy from Ten is stood behind her, an awkward smile on his face. I didn't notice him; it's easy to be overshadowed by someone like Eight. He makes an awkward, little wave, before stepping securely beside Eight.

"My name is Challis and this is Ezra. We're allies and we wanted to know if you wanted to join," she cocks her head, curls spilling and eyes sparkling. A smile plays on her mouth and she bites on her bottom lip gently. "I mean, you can say no, but it'd be really nice if you said yes."

My eyes skip between Challis and Ezra, trying to work out my answer. An alliance with her, most definitely, it's just the added extra being there, too. Competition? I mean, he's pretty for a dude, but I doubt I want to fight for a girl's attention against another. My mind calculates everything. Just over Ezra's shoulder, I can see Laurel, skipping through a make-shift course of ropes and tyres with a playful but dangerous smile on her face. An alliance with her probably would have been easier.

"What'd you say?" Challis asks again, lip being bit down on more. It sends my head spinning and my groin racing. A game of death? Yeah, that card's out of the window if I join both of them. "Well, you aren't answering... is that a no?"

There's a pause and Challis turns to leave, all before I finally spread my lips and speak. "Yeah. Yeah, I mean, yeah, okay then, I guess that'd be okay. But just us three and no-one else."

"Yay!" Challis giggles and claps. "Okay, yeah, just us three. This'll be great, guys!"

She clasps her tiny hands around both mine and Ezra's wrists, pulling them up in the air, united. I force a smile alongside Ezra, whilst Challis' is clearly true. This could work. It could, I mean, it can't go wrong, can it? I don't know. But, for a pretty girl like Challis, I'd bend over backwards to get the chance to be near them. I'm a boy, sue me.

* * *

**Justice Florence, District Six Female.**

* * *

I watch in the canteen as Challis and Ezra finally persuade Ewan into the alliance. It took a lot of talk, apparently, since Ewan wasn't so keen on having more than one ally. Oh, but of course, he wanted to chase the pretty little blonde girl that approached him. Very masculine of him. No-one notices me or anything - all of yesterday, I watched and learned from each of them. The Careers are already dysfunctional; accepting help from an outer district has meant inner competition. The girl, Fawn, is good at what she does, but she hasn't touched a weapon yet. I watched and followed her - nothing. She didn't touch a single thing.

The eyes of the boy from Nine, Quinlan, find mine and I instantly bow my head, sipping my soup quietly, alone, setting the perfect picture. When I look up, he's looked away. I'm one of the three tributes sat on my own - there's me, Quinlan and then Laurel from Seven, Ewan's district partner. Everyone else, now, are sat in pairs of threes or groups. Even people without alliances - Lena and Bracken from Eleven - are sitting next to each other so that they have some company.

My eyes glance back to Challis as she throws her blonde hair over her shoulder. Ezra watches her from her side, eyes looking remarkably bright as he stares at her features, cheeks tinted pink. Ewan is opposite her, but his posture says that he's holding his head high and probably staring, too.

In other words, that alliance, my soon-to-be alliance, is made up of two boys who are attracted to one girl. Interesting.

A loud bang alerts my attention and when I jerk my head to the side, I see the girl from Four, plate of food spilling down her clothes. Her hands hold air, the tray that was once there on the floor, turned upside down. The orange dyes her black suit a funny brown, and she growls in anger, turning around and sending a slap into her district partner's face. He just laughs casually and she lunges for him - claws just inches from his eyes - before burly arms are wrapped around her body and hauling her away.

Tension lingers in the air and some of the smaller tributes - like those from Three - seem slightly terrified by the girl's apparent fury.

After a while, it falls and people try to go back to their food. Ezra's eyes, this time, find me from over the floor. He offers a small grin and I play the game, offering a forced weak smile and bowing my head once more.

Patience. Patience. Patience.

"Are you okay? Are you alone?"

Bingo.

I look up to meet Challis' sparkling blue eyes and instantly know I've found my ticket into the alliance. "I-I-I'm fine."

"Have you got an alliance?" she asks all cutesy.

"No," I squeak out, watching her lips frown; stupid airhead. "I-I'm on my ow-wn."

Ezra's by her side within seconds and lifts my tray from the table. Challis extends her hand and I carefully take it, holding back my grin at everything. It played out perfectly. Challis leads me to the table and Ezra places the tray to the right of Ewan. He looks at me and groans, apparently not happy with another addition; who cares?

"Ewan, this girl here is joining us," Ezra remarks kindly. "What's your name?"

"Justice." I squeak out again.

"Welcome to our alliance, Justi-"

"No. No no no no and hell no," Ewan pipes up, clearly ready to showcase that disgust. "Another one? I can handle Ezra, barely, but another one? And a little girl?"

"Ewan, she has no-one," Challis frowns again, her words simple and slow, like she doesn't even know she's saying it. "She needs us."

Ewan just glares at the air between him and Challis, like the words are hanging there and he hopes to cut them down. But, as his eyes meet Challis', I see him change. I watch carefully, head still bowed down, as Challis' eyes begin to waver with apparent tears ready to leak. And, being like a typical boy that Ewan seems to be, he falls for it, giving in to the eyes that seem to make Challis' chest grow considerably. Like I said, this wasn't going to be hard. This was the alliance I wanted and I got it.

I can finally found out more about these guys.

* * *

**Stellan Kingsley, District Five Male.**

* * *

"The idea is, if it would to attack you, you go for the belly." I say, skimming my finger over the picture.

"Why the belly?" Theon asks, causing myself to smirk. "I mean, why not anywhere else?"

"Because everywhere else is covered in needles," I laugh. "A porcupine is going to try and stab you if you aren't careful. Try and flip and stab through the stomach."

Theon frowns and examines the picture closer. "But, say if I couldn't and needed to stab him through the back, why won't that work?"

"It would work. It'd be dead; what I'm saying is that the needles are long, so by stabbing it there, you'll more than likely get stabbed in response. Think of it as karma."

Theon nods and continues to carefully flick through the pages. Ever since the announcement and revealing of this section, it has to be important. I don't know how important - but most definitely important. The small books handed to people are hand-size, but contain pictures and little amounts of information on the animal. There's about one hundred types in there, but surely not all are important? I shake away my thoughts and zone back in as Theon flips the page to a large, rather aggressive-looking lion, mane a golden fury.

"Lion. Would tear you to shreds." I say off-handedly.

"You know a lot about animals. And, you did say that if we allied up, you'd tell me how. Want to explain?"

I don't really have an explanation. Back in District Five, I was an average child, an idiot amongst clever people. But, I was gifted in the fact that I loved animals. I was probably more suited for a district like Ten and their livestock, but District Five had to suffer with me. I read many upon many tattered books about animals and creatures and everything. Many aren't alive - many are held captive in the Capitol, viewed by the population as exhibits. Theon nudges me, waiting for an answer.

"Studied them quite a bit," I reply. "In school and all that."

Theon accepts the answer and goes back to reading. He doesn't notice me as I leave, but then again, we never did make rules for this alliance, so we can do what we want, really, as long as we act in the arena accordingly. Yesterday, that spur of the moment joke was rather... interesting of me. I didn't think it'd leave my lips; and yet, it did, and Theon accepted. I remembered him from the recaps; a teenage father. He told me all about his children, Keane and Robyn, the love he felt for them and the determination to go home to them. Yet, I was listening, and I wonder if it ever crossed his mind that he's telling me he needs to go home, will go home, knowing the person he's talking to has the same desire that can't be met if the other lives?

I'm not calling him ignorant or even selfish. He's determined and so am I.

I walk away and shake my head of all thoughts. I watch as India, the girl from Nine and the guy from Twelve talk about something together. Huh. So, India got herself a male addition to the club. She was so happy and excited about having the girl from Nine, it's nice to see her feeling that happy again. I like India, I do, but that's another name that will wait in my mind if I live. Nearby, the boy from Nine tries some throwing knives, doing surprisingly well. Next to him is the boy from Eleven, who with good speed, overpowers a trainer and brings them to their knees. The girl from Four shoots an arrow perfectly in the centre of a target, eyes flared in disgust from earlier whilst her district partner finds the perfect point to kill someone on a dummy, a smirk on his face also from earlier.

All these tributes, all these districts, all these lives, with one thing in common, and that's to the remaining tribute.

I try to find Theon's redhead district partner, who seems rather elusive. I spot her red mane in the corner, talking quietly to a group of tributes; boys from Seven and Ten and the girl from Eight. A large alliance, too.

This isn't a year for weak tributes with no hope; this is a year full of fighters with fire in their eyes and clenched fists ready to attack.

I look back to Theon whose oblivious as he continues to stare at the pages. Being in an alliance is probably more safer than being on my own.

* * *

**Odette Leith, District Four Female.**

* * *

I growl as I release the arrow once more, imagining the target as none other than Percival's face, smug and condescending, all rolled into one. It lands almost direct center, and in my eyes, it's landed in one of his eyeballs. Huh. Maybe I should just do that - blind the little fucker and let him walk around until something or someone kills him.

The new top I have on stands out amongst the others. Everyone is wearing black, whilst mine is now red. After what he did, tipping my plate of food down me, he's lucky I didn't just gauge out his eyes with a fork from the table. I'm not that aggressive, honest, but something about Percival has me changing my mind back and forth. Sometimes I feel like he's ready to make amends and I fall for it, only for him to double-back and treat me like an even bigger fool than before.

I release another arrow, aiming for the other eye this time.

I swear, if he comes near me... I'm cut off when I see his figure, facing the opposite direction, staring down the boy from Eleven. Eleven is nowhere near him, but they watch each other carefully. Eleven even smirks a little, placing a game of cat and mouse with Percy, apparently, since Percy only shifts his position every so often, crossing his arms and then standing a bit taller. I tilt my bow and arrow, metal arrowhead lined perfectly with the back of his skull.

I could kill him now... I mean, what would the repercussions be? They could kill me, but huh, it seems all too worth it at the very moment.

No, he's not worth it.

I spin around at lightning speed and release the arrow again in the target opposite me. No-one brave enough has came closer to me, apart from the Careers, that is, as well as Anubis. He aggravates me beyond belief, stomping in and claiming the Career leader position that should be for a Career, not a wannabe. He annoys me and even Minerva does, her tone always condescending and belittling. Fawn, too, but simply because the girl seems to be an all-round perfect girl. Kit is fine, he's annoying but fine, and Ransom makes me want to bite my own hand off, but he'll do. And then there's Percy, whom one minute I feel like we could get on, and then the next, he's being a general ass.

I don't even see him come over, until he's almost in spitting distance. I watch him with wild eyes, clenching and unclenching my fists in an attempt not to think of some way to cause him pain. He looks at me with a neutral look, eyes never wavering or even breaking contact with me. He doesn't seem so cocky now.

"Odette, I just, I want to apologise."

"Oh, get lost," I sneer, watching him still stay strong. "You can't just be nice and then be a complete asshole the next, Percy, I'm not your little toy."

"I don't think of you like that," Percival whispers, everything about him so... neutral. It's almost unnerving. "I just - I got lost and then Anubis was daring me to do something to prove my worth to the group."

"Considering you accepted him in with open arms?" I spit.

"He wanted proof we were the real deal," Percival defends. "I shouldn't have used you for that, I am sorry. I get it if you don't want to accept it, that's fine, just know."

"That's the second time you've apologised to me," I say when he turns and begins to walk away. "Why should I keep forgiving you? Giving you chance after chance if you'll just break it?"

"I mean it this time, Odette," Percival says, though I can read his face or expression. I can only go by words, which sound trusting enough. "I'm sorry."

He walks away before I can answer, but, I guess, I can do nothing but trust him. I mean, at the end of the day, as much as he plays around and everything, we're in an alliance that needs to hold strong for just a while whilst in the arena, to show power. After that, everyone for themselves. That means, after that, I no longer have to worry about Percival or his attitude. He'll be another heartbeat I'll be hunting to stop. For now, I'll trust him. This time, maybe this time, he won't mess it up.

One can only hope, I suppose.

* * *

**Nova Watts, District Three Female.**

* * *

"So, this wire leads to this wire, right?"

Terris looks up and sighs, obviously flustered by my antics. I say flustered, cause you know, Terris doesn't really get that angry all the time. I haven't seem him angry yet; he's like a ball of energy that goes to the edge to explode, but never does. He quickly collects the wires from my hands and smirks, flipping them over and handing them back.

"Like that," he says kinda smug. "The way you had it could cause it to implode, not explode."

"Smart," I reply, twisting the wires into a bow. "Did you know, Terris, your name sounds like terrorist and, like, it's ironic because you like explosives. Don't you think it's funny?"

Terris frowns as he looks up. "That's quite clever, actually. Did you know Nova is actually a state of explosion in outer space? Explosion, as in explosives, like the ones you're playing with?"

I smile. "Huh. Guess we have our superhero names then."

Terris laughs and hands me some more wires, whilst he collects some for himself to hot wire into his little ball of electronics. This is the most me and Terris have got on - he's nice and I'm nice, we're both nice, but our personalities differ and then, sometimes, we clash, like an explosion! I'm glad Mercury and Bolt encouraged us to be together, though, because without Terris, I don't know what I'd do. I sound hopeless and maybe I am, maybe I have no chance to win, but that doesn't mean my last few days need to be depressing and down; I had enough of that with strict parents.

Terris looks up and runs his two fingers over a piece of my wire. "What was that for?"

"Dust," he replies. "Was bugging me a little."

"I thought dust wouldn't be a problem for such a fun guy," I smirk, placing the wires down and scooting closer. "Did you want to know my secret now?"

Terris grins wickedly and leans forward. "Yeah, go for it."

"Blow gun," I say simply, watching Terris with amusement as he frowns. "Wait, listen. I done a little research and the girl from Nine helped me without knowing. I have a rough idea about how to make it work."

"Which is?" he asks, eyes now wide with curiosity.

"Still a secret," I chirp, laughing when Terris huffs and throws his hands in the air. "You'll find out eventually! Be patient."

"This isn't fair, you know. Keeping secrets in an alliance with just me. I'm even helping you with creating explosives." Terris complains.

"Sorry," I say, placing my hand on top of his. "It's just, well, I don't want anyone to find out, in case, you know, someone is hiding and eavesdropping on us."

"Well then, we're kind of buggered since they know about the explosives."

I nod, understanding it well, but Terris just cracks a smirk, playing with me. He laughs and I hit him lightly, annoyed by his attitude. The more and more we're forced together, the more me and Terris seem to blend well. It's an alliance forced together, that seems to work together. I move closer to Terris as he begins to explain on how you can set a timer on it, so you can throw it and it'll explode eventually. He's rather smart, Terris, if not a little bizarre. I can see why some people back in District Three feared him slightly. His intelligence and apparent love for fireworks and explosions can be seen as more of the evil scientist, rather than the cute, cliché ones with grey hair and glasses that people imagine.

"There you go. Understand?" Terris asks genuinely, tiny beads of sweat on his forehead.

"Of course not," I laugh, casually winking at me. "But, it doesn't matter, this alliance already has their little terrorist. Having two would just be unfair."

* * *

**Ransom Denvir, District Two Male.**

* * *

I watch as Fawn saunters over, a swish in her step. I've always admired Fawn since I first heard her name. Fawn; like the deer, so elegant and petite. I guess you could say it's a crush - but I doubt Fawn will go for someone not only younger, but of a different life. I've not always had the best life; it's been good, kinda, what with the way I live and that, but the training and the constant forced push from my mother... well, it takes a lot of spirit out of a kid.

"Can I help you with something?" I smile kindly as Fawn gets closer.

She laughs a little - kinda forced - before smirking. "I just wanted to talk to you about something."

"About what?"

She leans in closer, so her voice ghosts over my ear, and then proceeds to jerk a finger in the direction over her shoulder. I follow the gaze and realise she means Anubis as she pulls away. "I don't think he likes us very much."

"What gave you that impression?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow. Fawn copies my movement and curls her finger to ask me to lean in. I do, and the voice over my ear again sends shivers down my spine.

"He said something about "dethroning" him, not long ago. No idea what he actually means. Something tells me, though, that he's looking for the weaker links of this alliance and getting ready to pick them off within the arena." Fawn's voice is both sweet and sultry, combined with an edge, an edge of toughness.

I pull away and cross my arms. "So that obviously means me, since I'm not as murderous as the rest of them."

"And me," Fawn quips in. "I'm the "old lady", as Minerva dubbed me. That's us two, and I think another might be Kit."

"Why him?" I question, confused since, you know, Kit is kinda like a flying squirrel, all cutesy and quick.

"Age, size, the fact that he constantly looks like he's in pain." Fawn shrugs.

I scan over the training room, trying to find the little boy. I find him, in the corner, fighting against a trainer. He sends a speedy kick into his gut, before his elbow finds the trainer's neck and slams him into the floor. After that, though, I get what Fawn means, since he winces and looks visibly in pain. I hear a cough. Nearby, Anubis and Minerva watch him, eyes narrowed and calculating looks on their faces. Yup, so he might be one, too.

"What about Percy or Odette? Not being funny, but they hate each other."

"Apparently not," Fawn replies. "Percival and Odette have "made-up", well, I think so. He's being awfully kind to her all of a sudden, especially after the lunch incident."

I frown and look back to Anubis and Minerva. Both of them are calculating something, and if Fawn is right, they're studying Kit whilst he's vulnerable. The poor boy; he looks more innocent than the rest of us. I watch as he begins to walk away, passing Anubis and Minerva, offering them a kind smile, because he's like that, kind. He stops at the gauntlet and begins to climb it hastily.

"What's your idea then?" I say with a smirk, eyes locked on Kit's scurrying form.

"A little alliance within an alliance," Fawn says, causing me to look at her with a mixture of confusion and admiration. "If they can do it, so can we. You, me and Kit, if we talk to him. We'll turn on the non-Career before he realises anything."

I nod slowly, my eyes skipping over her delicate forms, leaving a few seconds to admire each strand on top of her head, her plucked eyebrows and then her gorgeous, crystalline eyes. She seems to notice and smirks again.

"So, what do you s-"

Her words are caught when a loud thud rings out from our side. I instantly snap my head in that direction, shocked to find Kit's crumpled body on the floor, in a heap. A trainer rushes over and blows a whistle, but Kit isn't moving. Panic rises in me, but before I can say anything, Fawn is already running over to me. I follow, because, you know, it's Fawn. Duh.

* * *

**Kit Felix, District One Male.**

* * *

"You okay kid?" the trainer's gruff voice drifts through the air, catching my ears.

I mumble and groan, stirring on the floor until a rough hand hoists me from the mat. I blink a few times, surprised to see Ransom's eyes locked on mine and his hand constricted around my upper arm. A burning pain rips through my arm and I cry out, causing Ransom to let go of me as fast as he pulled me up. A crowd has formed around me, but besides Ransom, the only other Career here is Fawn, her eyes a mask of worry and confusion.

"I'm fine," I shake it off. "Honestly, I'm all okay. I just- I slipped and, yeah, you all saw."

The crowd of trainers and tributes alike all begin to nod, some smirk, and even one tribute - the boy from Eleven - seems to chuckle. All eyes are me, and for once, I can't tell whether I like it or not. I've always loved to be the centre of attention, but right now, like this? No, it's not my thing. I angrily shove past Ransom, ignoring Fawn's voice as she calls after me. I run along the floor and back to the start of the gauntlet. If everyone has to watch, then they can watch me fly properly.

"Kit, don't be stupid." Ransom calls as I scurry up the blocks to the start.

I take a deep breath, Fawn and Ransom nothing but ants as they watch. Rolling my shoulders, I leap, landing on the first platform. I easily jump the next, somersaulting to the third and fourth, side-stepping the soft paddles that charge for me. I will fly. I will fly. I've completed this course already - once, I failed, and now, I can't let everyone see me as that. I smile as I jump, land, and then roll, even smacking the paddle out the hand of the trainer.

Someone cheers and I think it might be Fawn, I don't know, but I leap the last platform, kicking my foot out and taking the paddle from the trainer's hands once more. Adrenaline rises in me and I feel the need to scream. I can fly!

But, the adrenaline only masks the pain for a moment, and then, my legs and arms begin to ache, weighed down like cinderblocks in a river. I collapse to my knees and breathe heavily. I feel large, calloused hands once more hoist me from the gauntlet and stand me on my legs, on the ground.

"You're an idiot," Ransom scolds, his voice grave and gritty. "You could have made an even bigger fool of yourself if you weren't careful."

"But I was careful," I smirk, knowing that whilst my eyes are closed, Ransom is probably glaring."

"Meathead is right. That was risky - I mean, anyone could have done it, I could have done it, but that doesn't mean you should. Understand?"

I wince. "Not really?"

Fawn leans in closer, her voice whispering against my ear. Ransom's hands are still on me, and with a swipe, he pats my back. "They already think you're weak, Kit. Minerva, Odette, Percy and Anubis; each of them are betting you'll fall first. The Careers are split already, if you haven't noticed, and we need you to be on top form."

"We?" I rasp, voice shaky from the amount of pain that hits my body like a wave. I try to laugh, but it comes out wheezy, and I probably look like an idiot for trying.

"Me and Ransom," Fawn responds. "They hate us because we're the weaker links. We don't need to give them more encouragement."

I nod slowly, still regulating my breathing. I always had to when the pain started. If I didn't, well, I'd be on the floor screaming and crying. I guess that's a good thing, though. I'm more tolerant to physical exertion. I don't know - I don't even know what I'm saying. Ransom pats me on the back again and walks away, his heavy boots against the floor hard. Fawn lingers for a while and I peel my eyes open, staring up at her, golden curls spilling in front of her face.

"So, we're on their hit list?" I growl again, from pain, not anger.

She nods. "Most definitely. Put it this way; we're Careers, whilst Anubis isn't. Try and "dethrone" him, Kit, and he'll probably take your head off. Play it cool like me. I'm just walking around, keeping away from the weapons because I don't want to attract attention to myself because of my skills. Try the same."

Fawn walks away too, and after a while, I look up. None of the other Careers are staring at me, except our non-Career. Anubis' eyes are hardened and killer, piercing through my very soul. I shiver under his glare and he smirks triumphantly. I think my name is already on that list.

* * *

******Collide by Howie Day.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_Which tributes/POVs stood out to you? Who do you like/hate so far from this second instalment?_**

**_What do you think of the alliances? (the blog has the updated announcement on them)._**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Again, I don't hate you, and I understand this may be overwhelming and a lot to take in at once, but I just want to develop them enough to get into the arena. That's my strong point; not all this. Two more chapters and we're there, anyway. Again, my apologies for trying to fry your brains unintentionally!**

**Next chapter is the private sessions and scores ;) all alliances are now confirmed (alliance pre-arena, anyway, they can change) and are on the blog for a second look. If your tribute had a POV in this chapter, did I do okay on them or was I rubbish?**

**I have a poll up, for once, and I'd love for you to go and do it! Just a little look at who your favourites are now that the fated twenty-four have been shown! It'd be much appreciated. :')**

**This is a day early because I doubt I'd make the Thursday update. Next week, next Thursday, okay guys?!**


	6. Get Out Alive

**Get Out Alive.**

_If you want to get out alive, hold on for your life._

* * *

**Fawn Asprey, District One Female.**

* * *

"Are you sure you go to my academy?" Augustus whispers, eyes flared like a snake, smile like a predator. "I think I would have remembered someone as pretty as you."

"I'm pretty sure," I smile it away, looking from side to side for an escape. Sheer is nearby, passed out on the couch, though. She's not helpful whatsoever. My only hope lies in Kit, whose too busy getting changed for his big number. "I'm sure you have; I blend in the background a lot. My skills make me hated and so people tend to hate me."

"Skills, aye?" Augustus says smoothly, eyebrows raising.

I grin sheepishly and continue to look for an exit. A complete and utter twat. He has the riches and the power, and yet, he goes after girls barely legal and sometimes not even that. I didn't even get a choice in my mentor; Sheer puked up on Kit when she was high and that lead to him being slightly repulsed by her. So, I was left with the drug addict comma prostitute, whilst Kit got the pimp of said drug addict comma prostitute. Turns out that we all win.

As if on cue, Kit saunters from his bedroom, looking impeccable. I take that as my chance to stand up, muttering my thanks to Augustus for keeping me remotely company as I snake my arm around Kit's. He doesn't say anything; securing the hold and entering the elevator. Once the doors are closed, I breathe a sigh of relief.

"He was getting creepy again," I admit to Kit, because since being here, Kit knows full well what Augustus can be like. "He was asking me to undress and stuff."

I instantly berate myself for lying once more. It's become an addiction itself; a way for me to feel like I fit in, rather than feel isolated. Kit seems shocked, mouth agape. "That's disgusting. He's nothing but a pig."

"You're telling me."

The mechanical whirl keeps the silence from creeping, and each time I get ready to say something to Kit, my brain shuts down. Anything honest is instantly transformed into a lie. I've grown so accustomed, so damn used to it, that now, it's almost like a day-to-day thing. I couldn't stop it if I tried. I keep trying to make an honest friendship and alliance with Kit - just so I have someone I can trust to lean on when things fall apart - but it's constantly shot down by me and my big mouth. With Ransom, it's different; there's no denying that he's attracted to me, and I'll be an idiot if I didn't use that to my advantage. Not malicious, oh no, but to our advantage all the same. If the other Careers are going to peg us down, we'll be ready. And, as far as I know, I need as many people on my side.

The doors slide open and me and Kit - arms still linked together - walk out to the canteen.

Anubis is the only one of our alliance there, cornering off a table in the corner. I sigh when I realise that he chose the table the furthest back, so when our names are called up, each Career has to walk past every other tribute. He's still testing our loyalty to him and the stupid alliance.

"Morning people," Anubis sounds far too cheery as me and Kit sit down opposite him. "Take it you're ready to pull us in some sponsors?"

I just nod, choosing to look away from the twat. Acts sweet to our face and then lies behind our back. Then again, I'm sorta, kinda, possibly doing the same to Ransom.

"Certainly," Kit grins, but from this angle, you can see the way he's clenching his teeth. Kit most definitely believed us. "I have every trick up my sleeve and then some."

"And then some?" Anubis smirks.

"And then some."

"Alright then. I guess you're good to go. How about you, Fawn? Ready to act pretty?"

He's calling me out. He's fishing for me to either slip up or say something completely exaggerated. Anubis' eyes gaze over my whole being within seconds, eyeing me up like I'm under a microscope. I internally flinch before smiling, teeth and tongue ready to do what I'm best at. "More than that. I'm going to show why the rest of the Careers have no chance against me when it comes down to it."

* * *

**Minerva Li, District Two Female.**

* * *

When I walk into the canteen, it's half-full. Anubis, Fawn and Kit are the only Careers, but some other tributes are here. As I walk through, head held high and nose turned up, I barely gaze over the little girl from District Seven or the mean-looking boy from District Nine or even the hard held form of the girl from Eleven. None of them are going to get high scores, so why even turn up? Might as well stayed in bed and got some more sleep, since, well, they'll be dead in a few days.

"Hello Minerva." Anubis greets as I near the table.

"Morning sweetheart," I drawl, taking my seat next to him. Fawn looks down, but the superiority has already been checked in her eyes. Kit just smiles creepy. "How are the pair of you then?"

Fawn doesn't say anything, but Kit just continues to smile, as if he's extremely happy. Freak. "Yeah, we're good. Really good. Brilliantly, actually."

"Yes, Kit here is obviously excited and fawn says she's better than the rest of us, right Fawn?" Anubis quips, a toothy smile telling me that he has her name on that list of his.

Fawn doesn't say anything, keeping her eyes high but head low. I smile and Anubis casually lays back, sliding his hands behind his head and resting there. Ransom soon joins us and then finally, Percival and Odette come along. Percival is all smile and bright eyes, whilst Odette looks a little angry and disgusted. I can only assume the pair of fisherman have argued once more; or, for better terms, Percival has screwed her over and she's once again not happy about believing him. They take their seats and nobody really talks. I sit back next to Anubis and continue to just silently stare at our allies. It's weird, because when you let the silence take over, you realise more. We are incredibly dysfunctional; even more so then other years. Each has their strength, coupled by about four weaknesses, and no-one's really strong material to lead a group and that's why we have Anubis, oh-so-great and powerful.

"Kit Felix, District One." a person calls out and Kit rises, his hand grazing over Fawn's in an act of rebellion against the rest of us. They'll stick together; that much is obvious.

"So," Percival says, fingertips tapping against the table in a rhythm. Not a good one, but eh. "Anyone got any ideas on what they plan to do in there?"

"Everything." Anubis responds confidently. "What about you, Percy?"

Percival just smirks and looks back and forth from me and Anubis. "I might have a little chat with them. You know, get a good score and everything by sweetening them up."

"You'll need sugar for that, not your personality."

"How witty, Minerva, you're lucky you are still one of my favourites." Percival smiles.

"And you're one of my least favourites, sweetheart, but each to their own, eh?"

"Of course."

We lock our eyes and neither of us refuse to let go. Fawn's name is called after a while and she silently stands, accepting a rather awkward hug from Ransom before departing. All the while, me and Percival never ease up. Odette crosses her arms and looks bored whilst Anubis examines everyone else around us. Neither care for us and we don't care for anyone else outside us. Me and him, we have a rivalry. Not a large one, but there's one there, and that's all down to Percy's attitude obviously overshadowing the minor kindness he must exhibit to have a beating heart.

"Ransom Denvir, District Two."

I forgot he was even here still. He stands and walks away, a ghost in my imagination. Ever since training yesterday, Ransom isn't so cocky with me anymore. Before, I'd hear a word or two thrown back at me from whatever I said. Now, well, now all I get is a smirk and possibly a shrug. I'm not bothered; it just pisses me off how easily he's fallen to Fawn's oh-so charming manner.

"Ready to give up?" Percival chuckles, eyes still not daring away.

"Ne-"

"Minerva Li, District Two." a trainer cuts through my own voice. I look to Percival and he grins triumphantly. Anubis gratefully pats me on the back, his large meat hand slapping against my smaller frame, and I stand, eyes skipping away from Percy finally. The rest of the tributes watch me as I begin to walk out the room, but I keep my head held high and eyes glaring at each pair of eyes that dare to look at me. When I'm out the room, I smile. Easy pickings, the lot of them.

* * *

**Terris Avar, District Three Male.**

* * *

"Terris Avar, District Three."

It's not even that long after the girl from Two was called, Minerva, apparently. I stand, not surprised to find my heart beating faster. Except, rather than nerves, it's more excitement. For some reason, I can't wait to show what I know and see how they react. I don't know what happens in there, but Three tributes don't always do that well. So, clearly, they mustn't do that well in private sessions. I wonder if any tribute has exhibited my knowledge in explosives?

Nova looks at me and smiles comfortingly. "Good luck, terrorist. Show them what your name stands for!"

"And you, Nova, and you."

I walk away from the table, slight guilt in my chest. Nova picked our table away from others, but she didn't expect the older boys from Five and Six to sit one side, whilst the confident boy from Eleven sat the other side with his district partner. She accidentally positioned us between four tributes who seem much larger threats than ourselves. Sure, it means we got overshadowed - which is never a bad thing when you're my age and from my district - but it means now that she's on her own, she's a bit more noticeable. A young girl on her own. Not to mention Nova is the youngest tribute this year, from one of the least successful districts. That's double the disadvantage. I sigh and continue to walk the path to the private sessions. A Peacekeeper politely holds the door open for me, and I thank him, since I've never been one to be mercilessly mean.

The inside of the room is exactly how it was for training, minus all the trainers and equipment. Two trainers stand on the side, though, one for the hand-to-hand combat and the other to start the gauntlet. I stand in the middle and bow, presenting myself. The Head Gamemaker doesn't seem too interested though; his eyes are almost dry and he looks as if he's pained. Knightley, I think his name is. Yeah, Bolt mentioned something about him, though I can't remember what.

I quickly skip on over to my explosives, gathering some wires and then some debris. I make sure to collect the electrical orb that'll become my explosive when completed.

My mind changes to Nova as I start to connect the wires together, looping them around the electrical orb. I wonder what she'll do? Or, more importantly, I wonder what her secret is? She still hasn't told me, despite promising to when we got back up to the floor. She made an excuse and went to bed. Something there tells me that are trust isn't all that strong.

I flip the last wire over, plugging it into the socket. The electrical orb crackles to life and I can hear the murmur of some other Gamemakers. I start to twist the dials and timers, making sure it folds out right. Then, I choose the status of explosion; how hard and how far do I want it to stretch. When I've decided on a small radius, I place it back down and scamper.

Everyone seems confused as I duck behind one of the gauntlet podiums. Some Gamemakers even stand.

That's when the explosion happens. The noise is deafening and I can see the small flames lick the air. Shards of the debris fire out in all directions, showering down. I smile at my work, a replica of the two things I love the most; fireworks and fire.

Someone claps and I bow as I leave, heading for the other elevator. I jump in and press the right button, zooming up to meet Bolt and Mercury. My head is in swirls from the excitement and joy that it brought. Bolt even notes that I look happy, which I do. I wait patiently for Nova to arrive, and when she does, she looks remotely happy too.

"Will you tell me your secret now?" I ask loudly, unable to shy away the smile on my face and the excitement taking over my voice and heightening it.

Nova smiles dubiously. "Nope. You can wait until the scores."

* * *

**Percival Harlin, District Four Male.**

* * *

It's rather awkward just us three, I've learned. Anubis and Odette haven't had the privilege of having a one-on-one conversation just them two, and I know that Odette still harbors the annoyance that she was rejected leadership and we brought in a non-Career instead. Then there's me, stuck between a rock and a hard place, neither pretty. Me and Anubis seem to have an odd friendship, I don't go out of my way to talk or annoy him, and likewise. Odette, on the other hand, is my toy.

"Well this is just painful." I state plainly, skipping my eyes between the pair.

"Then shut up and it wouldn't be so painful." Anubis smirks.

"You've been learning from Minerva clearly. Having a nice little relationship there?"

Anubis only smiles in response, but the satisfaction is enough. I've caught him there; what are him and Minerva? Because, if they are an item, well, then, whose to say not everyone can find someone? If they can, every other person has a chance, maybe even more. Odette lingers in the corner of my eye and I turn my body around.

"Are you okay?"

She snaps her eyes at me and glares. "Don't be acting nice. You were a dick this morning."

"I'm sorry," I apologise for what must be the hundredth time. "I get cranky in the mornings. I didn't mean no harm."

"You didn't have to put my weight under the microscope, though."

"I'm a dick. I'm sorry."

Her eyes lighten up and all is well in our world... until it happens again. Odette was all tough and angry, a woman scorned, so to speak. Then she met me and she thought she knew what I was doing. She thought she had me all worked out, like I would be that simple. Clearly, all the salty water has clogged her brain up. I hear my name get called as Odette turns around again. I rise from my chair and smiles, running my fingers through Odette's brunette locks before sauntering away. It doesn't take me long to get to the training centre from here; a Peacekeeper even opens the door, but I just simply grab the opposite one.

"Percival Harlin." I state, not stopping but rather walking straight to collect a rapier. I'm on a time limit here, I have no time to chat and bow.

When I grab one, I gesture for one of the trainers to join me. He does so reluctantly, collecting a rapier and then standing opposite me. We tap our weapons and then space ourselves apart. I smile as his rapier collides with mine, the sound of grating metal filling my ears. We continue to parry for a while, me pushing him further and further to the edge of the map. He tries to fight back; but every hard hit of his is countered by a harder hit from myself. Eventually, it's child's play, like I'm parrying with a toddler. I watch with amusement as his face shades from white to an angry red, obviously flustered from being schooled by a teenager from the seaside home of District Four.

He growls when my rapier slides off his and then slightly cuts his forearm. Anger takes over fully this time, and he sharply jets the rapier forward. I don't feel a thing; but instead, I look down, curious to find his rapier has torn open my shirt and punctured a hole, spilling red over my uniform. The Gamemakers seem to gasp from the attack and the trainer even throws his weapons away, devastated by his actions. That'll certainly be his death. But, I don't feel a thing, never have done. There's no pain and no numbness even. I'm perfectly fine. He's not.

"Oh, would you look at that..." I say calmly, jetting my own rapier out with a swift flick of my wrist, sending the silver cut into his stomach. It's only a flesh wound; to match mine actually. He crumples to the floor and screams in agony. "It was an accident? Same for me, bud."

Hands smother me and lead me away, a foreign hand even pressed over the hole he inflicted on me. I don't miss the scream that pierces the air, though. That itself brings a smile to my face, alongside the wound. It bleeds but I feel nothing. It's almost like I'm invincible.

* * *

**India Cross, District Five Female.**

* * *

Fay visibly looks unsettled, her hands drumming on the table and the constant look of agitation in her eyes. Every other little moment - when a tribute rises and leaves - she seems to flinch. When the girl from District Four walks by with a swish in her step, eyes cast downwards, Fay goes pale. At first, I think it's due to the girl being a Career and looking wickedly accurate with that bow and arrow, but then I realise it's because the girl is stomping out of the room.

Colton smiles and attempts to make Fay feel better, his hand on her shoulder, but she looks even more uncomfortable with the touching.

Stellan's name is called and he rises from the seat next to his ally, the boy from Six, walking away calmly. He glances in my direction and nods, a sign of respect between us. The silence is thick, the only noise coming from the boy from Eight who constantly laughs and openly mocks everyone around him. Every now and then, though, you hear the chirpy laugh of his district partner, Challis I believe, who tosses her golden locks through the air and brightened eyes beaming at everyone around her.

"India Cross, District Five."

I rise and Colton holds out a fist for me to pump. I do it, smiling and hoping to unite the three of us together more so. Fay smiles weakly as I turn and walk, keeping my eyes ahead of me. By the time I reach the training centre once more, my heart is racing. I push the doors open - declining the man because at his age, he shouldn't be doing hard labor - and walk in. The Gamemakers are visibly distressed. Obviously, something must have happened with one of the tributes before me. They don't even notice me as I walk towards the spears.

I grab the lightest one once more and throw it with ease. It scraps the target and lands on the floor, a metallic clang ringing out, awakening the Gamemakers who are absorbed into their own minds.

"Rude." I say deliberately, grabbing another spear.

This one lands the target but is right on the outer ring, meaning it's a hit, sure, but the furthest possible from bullseye. After another attempt - which ends up embedded in a tiny bit further - I'm dismissed.

"I hope you enjoyed my performance."

I press the button on the elevator and rise up quickly, the doors opening up to the scene of Zeke talking to Stellan politely on the couch. Zeke smiles softly and Stellan rises from his chair. My eyebrows knit in confusion as he approaches me, wrapping two larger arms around my smaller frame.

"This is nice and everything, but unexpected and kinda awkward." I mumble into his shirt.

He doesn't say anything as he lets go. There's a conflicted smile on his face and my mind registers what I guess must be his problem. Is this what the people in my district have dubbed "district guilt"? There are many rumors that people who share a connection with their district partner is often because they feel guilty for wanting their death. I understand it. Stellan does, too. The smile on his face vanishes and he turns, ready to walk away.

"Thank you, though, and I don't wish your death either!" I call as he leaves the apartment and opens his bedroom door, waiting for the evening, no doubt. I look to Zeke when I hear a scoff. "Yes?"

"Nothing," Zeke smiles softly once more, deflated this time. "You just... you're different, India, and I don't think anyone is ever going to forget you."

"I would hope not. I don't plan on being bland and everything. I'm myself, Zeke, and I'll stay that way until I either way walk away on top or fall underneath." I feel the confidence in my voice and, I guess, I'm not terrified anymore. I think I've slowly come to terms with everything in my mind. There's a pause, me waiting for the words to spill from Zeke's mouth. It doesn't. "Is Cordelia still in her room?"

"She won't be allowed out until tonight." he answers.

"I'll go and see her. Cheer her up and maybe annoy the Peacekeepers into leaving the room."

"I heard about that." he smirks slightly.

"As you said, I'm different." I smile and walk away, head on my shoulders much more clearer and prepared. Before, I had mixed feelings, never knowing what the right one to feel was. I was nervous, happy to gain Fay, and then Colton, and then scared. Now, I feel clear. I feel... ready.

* * *

**Theon Sykes, District Six Male.**

* * *

Justice waits nervously on the seat, thumb plucked in her mouth and a constant chewing noise gritting out. Wisp sits near her, Lorcan on the other side of the room. From my angle in the kitchen, they look like a family. Lorcan is young; he could pass for the older brother, features fair and clean. Justice, of course, is the child, whilst Wisp's age, weathered looks and maturity makes the perfect father figure. I turn the tap, a sense of longing still sitting in my heart. I can't let the thoughts of my children weigh heavy on me; no, I need them to empower me. Everyone has a family to return to - siblings and parents - whilst I actually have children. I have something more closer to my heart.

I sip on the water and walk back in, passing Justice's red mane and then sitting next to her.

Me and Justice don't talk. I find it easier, actually, since every time I look at the girl, all I can imagine is her face blue and lips purple, body drained of life and contained in a wooden box. Her death is needed for my survival. Am I monster for wishing it's as swift and soon as possible? That thought leads to the idea of one of my children sitting on the seat, Robyn for instance, and her district partner wishing her dead. Anger floods my body, my clench on the glass getting tighter.

Parents at home are praying their children live. I'm in here wishing they would all die. If roles were reversed, I could be nothing but a parent wishing for my child's safety, and another tribute would be wishing them dead. It makes me hypocrite; I would kill anyone who thinks like that about my children, yet I'm doing it about other people's children.

"So, again, tell me how things went?" Wisp asks after a while, snapping me from the thinking.

"It went fine," I say plainly. "I think I did actually okay."

"Try the mace like we talked about?"

"Yes, Wisp, I did." I bite back, a little bitterness in my voice.

My eyes look to Wisp, just skimming over Justice. But, again, the hero inside me screams. Back in District Six, I looked out for the younger ones. I grew up reasonably okay with enough food; others didn't. So, I snuck some out for them, like a hero in the night. A crusader in my district, feeding the poor. My parents found out and they were none too pleased. I got beat up, sure, even locked in a cupboard. But I braved it because I knew that brief moment of my pain would serve a greater good. I'd be suffering for a few hours; some kids would suffer from starvation for days, weeks, maybe even years. It made me feel better. One of the people I helped even turned out to be Savannah, and that turned out well - Keane and Robyn are the proof - but... I should be acting accordingly to Justice, helping her out and protecting her. But I'm not. Every other kid I helped; but with Justice, I can't, I can't help the competition.

It's a battle against good and evil and I can't win either way.

The television screen roars to life, a black picture bubbling away until it's left with nothing but Hermes Abbatone and his dazzling white smile that seems more and more like a predator's smile. This year, his hair is a dusty pink, still curly and cherub-like.

"I hope you done good enough." Wisp says, loud enough for me to hear but to thankfully skip past Justice's ears.

"So do I," I whisper. "So do I."

I need to have done good. I slip my eyes closed and think, think, think hard enough about my children. I need them to empower me; I need them to be there to help me go further and further. To do things that'll break my soul and rip apart my humanity. To break my moral codes and sanity. I'm a father - my children are my everything, and I am literally going to hell and back for them.

* * *

**Laurel Aston, District Seven Female.**

* * *

"Quit it you, we need to listen." Ewan smiles playfully, throwing the cushion back at me.

I catch it and beam, tempted to throw it even harder at his head; but the roar of the television alerts me to what really is about to happen. The Capitol night streams through the ceiling to floor window, illuminated stripes crossing the carpet and the furniture. Maple sits not far away from me, a glass of drink in her hand. She taps it against Spruce's glass, containing the same liquid. They seem to be enjoying themselves. They deserve it, I guess, since mentoring tributes like me and Ewan must be tough.

Hermes Abbatone appears and smiles, papers resting in his hand. Like every year, he's joined by the commentator, Gregor Flack, who never speaks on camera but rather sits in the corner like a made-up man-doll. He introduces himself and Gregor and then, the music plays softly as he speaks the first name of the tributes, starting with the male from One; Kit Felix.

He does well, a total shock, to be honest. I've seen him; he's older than me, yet acts younger than me. His skills are obviously great, though, since a blood 9 is underneath his rather charming picture. He's agile, I bet he used that to his advantage. I should have too!

His district partner, the frail blonde, only manages a simple 7, but I'm not surprised. As far as I know, she didn't touch anything.

The male from Two - Ransom apparently - gains a blood 8, lower than I would have thought. His district partner, the snooty Asian, proves to be typical and gains an astounding 9 to match Kit. Expectations are set rather lower before District Three, home to the other two little children of these Games alongside me. They have a better chance. The boy with his wild hair and smile pulls in a blood 6, something I didn't think possible. Then again, he did spend most of his time tinkering with electronics. His district partner even gains an impressive 5.

"Looks are deceiving, apparently." Spruce smirks.

The terrifying boy from District Four, however, is the biggest surprise of the night. His blood 12 shimmers underneath his picture. I hold my breath, suddenly not finding this whole experience fun anymore. I barely recall what his parent gets, though Maple clarifies that it was a 9, her sharp shooting skills good.

The boy from Five does better than expected. He pulls in a 5, something even I didn't expect. His partner manages a 4.

The next district, Six, is home to one of Ewan's allies. The large boy appears, his shaved beard and weathered eyes making him seem much older. I'm not surprised he pulls an 8, something as expected. I feel kinda happy for him.

Then, she appears, the bright redhead that Ewan has a bitter resentment against.

"I still want her to do well," Ewan says, making me realise that I said that last bit out loud. He turns to me and smiles faintly. "She's an ally; we need all the help we can get."

Her 3, however, causes Ewan to feel a bit deflated. I hold my breath when her face transforms into that of Ewan; shaggy blonde hair and fair skin. I want him to do well. I really, really, really do. He's like the brother that my mother never graced me with. Instead, I got Alanni, annoying and clingy. The blood number that pops up underneath makes me smile, though. The 7 waves at the crowd before disappearing. Ewan lets out a sigh of relief and Spruce cheers drunkenly.

My picture pops up next. It feels weird looking at your own picture, knowing someone judged you on a performance you done. Will it be good? I tried what I could. I did what I had to. I should have done the gauntlet and gymnastics like the One boy did, though. Damn it!

The number is satisfying though. Maple smiles and even cheers, but it's Ewan that looks the happiest. I got a 6. Better than I could have imagined.

* * *

**Anubis Cotton, District Eight Male.**

* * *

My picture appears and I smile even wider. I look good. No, wait, no yeah, I definitely look good. Challis just sits there mindlessly, glossed over eyes planted on the screen. Either that or she's checking me out. Of course, why would she need to when she has two boys drooling over? That, and the little girl that seems almost gruesomely fascinated with her. Her alliance is a mixture of people that, really, would be better on their own. Underneath my picture pops up an 8, another great Career score.

But I've been dethroned. The bitter taste on my tongue reminds me that I got bested by three people. Well, four, because I'm almost sure that Odette isn't a human.

Kit, Minerva and Odette matched scores, rounded 9's. Then there's him.

Percival's score still showers my mind. A 12. A 12. I can't wrap my mind around how the hell he performed good enough to gain the highest score possibly. In all other years, a 12 has never been handed out. They rarely hand them out, and when they do, you can guarantee that tribute makes final three, even Victor on most occasions. I didn't mind being bested by the others. Minerva, well, that's fine. Me and Minerva have a decent enough friendship to make that work. Odette doesn't matter because the girl doesn't matter. Kit, well, he'll probably kill himself by accident.

Percy, on the other hand, is proving to be a problem. When I imagined taking over the Careers, I didn't imagine a fisherman from Four could beat me. Beat everyone, actually, schooling us all. He'll need to be taken care of first then. Kit was my prime target, but I guess I'll just have to make a detour and clear him out first. Then, once Percy is done, me and Minerva will knock off Kit and Fawn. Ransom, too, but Minerva wants him to be the last one out of their band of merry rejects.

Odette can just swim along. Someone else will kill her. Not to mention that now, besides the Careers, I have to watch out for the boy from Six, who proves strong enough to match me too.

I'm so focused on my thoughts I miss Challis' score, not that I care.

"What was it?" I deadpan, facing the girl that now cries.

"She got a 2, Anubis, be a bit more sympathetic. She is your district partner."

"And how did you treat your district partner, Velvet?"

"With respect."

"Hmm," I mumble, looking back to the screen to see the boy from Nine and his blood 7 disappear. A 7? Interesting. I'll look out for him. The boy from Seven, too, since those little chimps play with sharp objects when they can walk and talk. Velvet moves seats, getting closer. "Go away. Personal bubble and you're invading it."

Nine's district partner, the spaced out one, only manages a 2 and it's a shame because she was always destined for the bloodbath, I just had hoped she would have got a 1 instead. Her and Challis might as well sing some campfire songs to the tune of their plates exploding underneath their feet. The boy from District Ten only manages a 5, and his district partner even matches it with her own 5. Decent, I suppose, but nowhere near threats.

Velvet moves closer. "I wonder if you can get killed for attacking your mentor?"

I don't look at her but rather keep my eyes on the screen. Chiffon scoops Challis and leads her away, leaving me with Velvet. Oh great. The boy from Eleven with his wild hair and carefree but dumb attitude shocks me, and even Velvet seems confused. A blistering 1 waves under his screen. Even Hermes seems shocked by that. He done that bad? I can't hold back my laugh, the beautiful sound bouncing around the apartment. Velvet looks at me with such disappointment, I can't help but smile.

"Oh, stop being so almighty. Only I'm allowed to act like that. After all, I'm practically the king of these Games."

* * *

**Quinlan Nour, District Nine Male.**

* * *

"Buck, escort Fay to her bedroom." Bailey asks kindly, pushing the crying girl from her arms and into Buck's. He smiles sympathetically and leads her away.

I sit back down on the couch and redirect my attention to the television. The boy from Eleven is replaced by his district partner, another tribute like myself who refused allies. Well, I didn't exactly refuse them, I just know I don't need them. The Careers have their training; I happen to have mine, too. The dark skin and dark hair proves insatiable, and the Gamemakers agree. They hand her a remarkable 6, much, much better than her partner.

Still. Not as good as me though. My 7 was expected; I even carved that number into the target before throwing my knives.

To me, 7 is the perfect number. It's enough to make me look a threat to everyone else, bring in sponsors, and just generally make me look like I'm capable of going far. But, it's also low enough to avoid being one of the hunted on the Careers' list. The boy from Six... he thought he done good with that score, but he doesn't realise that they will want his blood over everyone else. Poor boy.

The face of Colton appears next. I know of him; he was a loner until he joined both Fay and her ally, India. Fay didn't seem affected by his presence; she just mentioned to Buck and Bailey that it was nice of him to ask, and that India couldn't say no. He does average for someone from District Twelve; a 4. Usually, they don't aim high. My father would make me watch recaps constantly, to train me harder and harder. I just sat there and pretended to be invested in the whole charade he wanted me to perform. A recap would always be the cherry on top to my running workout. In all the recent years - bar the recent Quarter Quell - they get a low score. The boy from the recent Quarter Quell gained a high score - an 8 - but he was knocked off in his sleep two days after the bloodbath.

Bailey makes a comment about this other girl that reminds her too much of Fay. Poppy or something her name was. Apparently, she was a Quarter Quell tribute too, and she jumped. I don't know her, but I think I remember the clip of it or something. It became a big deal in District Nine; people were devastated because she was disabled or deaf or something. It was tragic. And, according to Bailey when I heard her whispering to Buck, she fears that Fay might pull a similar stunt.

I continue to watch the television as it changes to his district partner, the weird girl who allied with Serena in the end. Her score is better than Colton's, but only by one; a 5 to top off what appears to be a magical evening. Hermes bids everyone goodbye and he disappears.

"I'm going to go and check on Fay and Buck," Bailey says mindlessly, rising from her seat. "Did you want to discuss your score or come and see Fay?"

"Neither."

"I think it mi-"

"I'm okay, thank you."

Why bother discussing my score? It's clear that Buck and Bailey have more time for Fay than they do for me. Looks like they've chosen their favourite of us. Bailey sighs and walks away, down the corridor and on a left to Fay's room, where distinctive sobbing can be heard carefully. Maybe she will jump on the day. To be perfectly honest, I can't say that that won't be a bad thing. Maybe Fay needs to be released before hell well and truly takes over her mind. Either way, it's not my problem. She already has taken both our mentors' attentions, she isn't have mine too. I have to think about myself; one winner and all that.

I stand up and collect a drink, thoughts on my mind. I'm ready for this. I'm ready to fight in two days time. To be honest, I'm not scared. If anything, everyone else should be.

* * *

**Ezra Zinnia, District Ten Male.**

* * *

That night, I can't help but toss and in turn in bed. I did okay, I admit. I was hoping for higher but was expecting lower. That number, that 5, that was probably the one number I forgot I was actually capable of; I was either dreaming too high or not exceeding high enough. The rest of my alliance fared okay - Challis and Justice scored low, but I expected that, and same goes for Ewan's above average score. I have to admit, though, I was pretty happy that Serena got a 5.

We may never talk - and Sunny may have drilled it into Serena's head that I'm nothing more than a prat that won't take it seriously - but that doesn't mean I should want her to fail. If anything, if I don't survive, Serena is the next one I would like. Her winning means that my district will fare better for another year. Straight after her will have to be Challis. Because, well, Challis is sweet and kind, but I doubt she'd make it very far.

The thought of her dying early sends a wave of guilt in my mind. Why am I thinking of it? Me and Ewan, we'll do everything we can to protect her. Justice will have to look after herself and find us - my priority, and Ewan's no doubt, is to get to Challis and save her quickly. Since Justice is the last one added to us, she'll have to make sure she finds a way to ensure her safety without compromising the rest of us.

Two days. The interviews are tomorrow.

I feel more melancholic about that. When District Ten see me, they might realise and work it out straightaway or they might not. When I went from Ezmae Zinnia to Ezra Zinnia, no-one batted an eyelid. I was one of the children to stay indoors, so nobody knew my name and in all honesty, I was a wallflower, stuck to the wall and forever being unnoticed. That benefit allowed me to become Ezra without any worry.

But tomorrow... some people might find out. My old employer knows; he might even get my mother arrested for lying on the birth certificate. My breath quickens and I suddenly feel dizzy. He wouldn't do that, would he?... then again, after my history with him and his daughter, I wouldn't be surprised if he's become spiteful. He was the moment he found out; fired me and threatened to have me whipped if I ever came near him or his farm again. But that doesn't necessarily mean that he'll get my mother - a kind and gentle soul - in trouble when I'm already in something as horrid as the Hunger Games?

I shake my head to rid me of the thoughts. I need to stay positive. I close my eyes and think about Challis' eyes and her blonde hair. They were comforting and warm; endearing and soft. Butterflies flutter in my stomach at the thought of her and that, in turn, also doesn't help me sleep. I finally sigh and give up, looking up at the ceiling.

I can do this.

I was never this confused before; not since that time with her...

Every time I try to find comfort, I only find pain. Thinking of Serena's premature death. Thinking of Challis' features that won't be around forever. Thinking of Linzabeth and her father... she reminds me of Challis, actually. Beautiful but not the brightest bulb. Maybe that's why the attraction is there - I'm looking for someone to replace Linzabeth. Eventually, sleep pulls me in, the last thought being of Challis and Linzabeth's faces merging into one beautiful creature. For both girls, I'd do just about anything to earn their love.

Anything.

* * *

**Lena Romero, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

When I wake the next morning, I can't help but smile. I did okay yesterday, and if anything, I didn't need to worry about discussing my feelings and everything to Mako and Ida. Bracken's score caused some controversy last night. It didn't help the fact that he encouraged the notion, laughing and cheering at his own apparent failure. I say apparent, but I'm almost sure that Bracken planned it.

I slide out of bed and collect my clothes, heading for the shower. I bathe under the water and scrub my skin, feeling the scattered bumps and cuts that line my back.

Those children at the orphanage are my reason for trying hard. I would have given up if I didn't have them. I wouldn't have tried hard then, I wouldn't be trying hard now. Their faces - some chubby and some dirty, some clean and some hollow - press into my brain and encourage me to go out there and do whatever it takes to return. That's why I chose to stay away from the tributes. I don't trust myself; seeing a little kid, like the girl from Seven, it'll only pull on my maternal instincts and I'd be agreeing to an alliance out of pity, not even thinking about the fact that I plan to kill and live amongst the broken Victors, not the buried coffins.

I throw myself out the shower and dry up, changing into my clothes and feeling refreshed. When I push open the door, I'm taken aback, Bracken's cheery face on my bed.

"Bracken, you little devil." I smile playfully, walking in. "Can I help you with something?"

"Nothing really. I just can't face Mako and Ida again without some back-up."

"I'm not saying a word. I don't want to annoy them." I reply.

"Your appearance is the only back-up I need. Safety in numbers and everything." Bracken winks.

Safety in numbers, and yet, both me and Bracken are choosing to go in alone and not even together. He'll be braving it without anyone and so will I. What would happen if it came down to me against him? Then what would I do? I'd have to do the one thing that I already know will happen; I'd have to kill him. I'd have to take his life if that scenario plays out. There's no other choice. In fact, I'm also certain Bracken would do the same.

"I suppose. But no making me defend you - it's not my fault you were happy with your score whilst they weren't."

Bracken taps the side of his nose with a dirty fingernail. "My secret, Lena. I threw the session on purpose."

"I knew it. Why was that?"

"Why play their game? Why act like a performing monkey so that they can judge you for everyone else to see?" Bracken asks, his voice smooth and eyes charming.

"Because if you don't play, they'll kill you? You'd be a dead man walking."

"I'm already a dead man walking. If you haven't noticed, we're on a death sentence, and the odds aren't in our favor. They aren't exactly gonna kill me when I'm two days away from being murdered anyway," Bracken says nonchalantly, rising from his seat on my bed. "I'm their entertainment; they won't risk losing me. So, I'll mercilessly take advantage of it and torment the fuckers."

"Sounds dangerous. Well, if you're that reckless, then go ahead. Just don't drag me with you; I plan to try and win." I smirk.

"It sounds like Bracken Mathis," he replies. "And don't worry. If they have to have a winner, then I want it to be you any day. The other districts can go suck it."

He walks out the room and I follow, surprisingly feeling better about myself. Tomorrow, we'll be in that arena, fighting. Today, I'll be watching Bracken fight our mentors. I can now feel much more safer and less guilty; I never have to worry about killing Bracken, because someone - whether tribute or Gamemaker - will do it for me. And his death and my survival is all that's important, no matter how harsh I sound.

* * *

**Katerine Holloway, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

The next morning I'm ushered out of my room by our escort once more. Evangeline doesn't miss a beat as she rushes me through breakfast, ignoring Colton's tardiness or - even when he appears - his disgruntled attitude towards the food once more. Straight after I'm force-fed a muffin, Evangeline decides to final speak up.

"So today I have everything planned so there's no need to worry. Colton, you'll work with Peeta whilst I work with Katerine in order to prepare her, since there's more work to do concerning her."

I raise my eyebrows at the comment. She doesn't even realise the remark she left me. It's like the little birds all over again, completely oblivious and rude. Colton smirks from across the table and I'm tempted to say something to him. Nothing rude, but a general talk. I've always felt the need to have company around me - it's when I feel the most calm and strongest - and the silence on the District Twelve floor is not helping me stop freaking out. Peeta keeps to himself, Crispin is rather reclusive and jittery, Evangeline is the worst company of all and she seems to shy away from us all, and so that only leaves Colton. Yet, every time I go to open my mouth to speak, I feel tongue-tied. Why? What can you say to someone who you secretly wishes will die? That you secretly wish will never make it far, just so your shot is better?

Evangeline guides me from the table after a while and Colton smiles comfortingly.

"Where are we heading?" I ask as we leave Peeta, Crispin and Colton.

"To my room. We'll get the most privacy in there and all my books are in there." Evangeline beams.

She opens her door and leads me in, plopping me down on the chair opposite her. She flips open a few pages and asks me to read them back to her. I do, but apparently, not to her standards. I get flustered and try harder, determined to try better. I've always been a bit of a perfectionist when it came to certain things, and Evangeline just reminding me of how imperfect I am doesn't help. I can feel the heat clawing at my cheeks and the bitter tears pricking at the back of my eyes.

"You're still saying it wrong," Evangeline sighs. "Enunciate, Katerine."

"I'm trying." I whisper.

"What was that? Are you not enunciating again?"

The words die on my lips and I gulp, the harsh lump scratching my throat. For once, I feel hopeless. I don't want to be reminded of how imperfect I am; and I definitely don't need Evangeline on my back about it. I try again and fail. I sigh and Evangeline snatches the book from my hands, ushering me up and trying something different. She makes me practice on walking in heels, which is a lot better. Not perfect, which Evangeline is quick to point out, obviously.

"Lets try out something new with your hair." Evangeline asks, and instantly, I feel my body drop.

"W-Why? Isn't that for the stylist?"

"She didn't do that great with the chariots, I want to give her some ideas. Now, sit sit, lets see what we can try."

I don't have time to protest - the hands are on my shoulders and forcing me into the seat. She runs her fingers through my hair and the paranoia sets in once more.

"Your hair is getting thin everywhere. Katerine, do you do something to it or is it just the way you treat your hair? Do you not look after it?"

The tears are back, joined by their best friend, the heated cheeks. I close my eyes and trying to push away Evangeline's voice as she continues to rattle on and on about how terrible my hair is. Finally, it's enough, and I'm flying out my seat before she can even complain. Tears are streaming my cheeks and I storm out of her bedroom. As I stomp back to mine, my hand idly climbs to my hair, ripping out a small handful that falls to the floor. I breathe heavily through my teeth and push my door open, falling to my bed, more strands of hair trapped in my hand.

Katerine Holloway is imperfect. She will never be perfect. In a few days, she'll probably be dead.

* * *

******Get Out Alive by Three Days Grace.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**What did you think of the scores? Favourite POVs again?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**The scores, in case you got confused, are on the blog on each tribute profile.**

**Next chapter is the final Capitol chapter, concerning outfits, hints, interviews and then the launch and look at the arena. I'm scared! I love these tributes and soon, they'll be gone D; I want you guys to know that these tributes have all been just spectacular, I just love them all!**

**The poll is also closed - thank you to the 22 people that voted. ;) I posted the results, but here they are in case you were wondering!**

**11 Votes;  
Theon.**

**10 Votes;  
Kit.**

**8 Votes;**  
**Terris, Laurel & Ezra.**

**7 Votes;  
Minerva.**

**6 Votes;  
India & Serena.**

**5 Votes;  
Fawn, Nova, Justice, Anubis, Katey & Colton.**

**4 Votes;  
Ewan, Fay & Bracken.**

**3 Votes;  
Percival, Stellan, Challis, Quinlan & Lena.**

**2 Votes;  
Ransom & Odette.**

**I'm glad everyone got at least one vote! So, well done Theon, you topped the board. ;) also, thank you for the 100 reviews, you made me smile you guys like I'm so happy the best submitters ever :')**


	7. Spectrum

**Spectrum.**

_We are shining, and we will never be afraid again._

* * *

**Kit Felix, District One Male.**

* * *

"Lift your arms please." the stylist says, her voice calm and collected.

I rise my arms like I'm told, smiling playfully when she runs her hands up and down my side to check the seams. She asks me to twirl and I do, loving the attention. I keep my hands in the air as she pats my legs, ensuring I can move in them, too. The suit is a silver gray, black shirt and white bow tie, looking perfect for a perfect guy. I laugh at my own stupidity and the stylist looks up, eyebrows knitted together. I'm not really that egotistical - Anubis has claimed that part of our alliance already. I smile shyly and she goes back to work.

Tomorrow, when we rise, I need to look for Fawn. We'll stick together as the Careers alliance; but my main priority is to find Fawn and make sure she's okay. Our scores might either attract the attention of Anubis - determined to kill the weaker ones - or it might cause the Careers to abandon us altogether. I admit, I'm scared for that. Me, Fawn and Ransom, we'd do okay, but not right away. We need the strength of an alliance - no matter how dysfunctional - to get through the early stages. But, then again, Anubis can talk. I got a higher score than him, and so did Odette and Minerva.

And to counter that, Fawn said we're the weaker three, and Fawn and Ransom's scores show that.

Not to mention Percival's score. Something is up with that. I mean, he's good, he's brilliant even, but he's not perfect. No-one really is; no matter how much you strive for it. I should know. The more you stretch for perfection, the harder you fall and the more painful the impact.

"Can you stretch your leg, please."

I sit down and stretch my leg, feel satisfied until the familiar pain is back. I grit my teeth and fight against it, allowing her to do whatever. The quicker she does, the better. Finally, with a curt nod, she stands up and walks away. I wait a moment, massaging my leg now that no-one is around. The pain is going to hold me back; but it's also going to drive me forward even harder. Eventually, I stand and walk away, escorted by a Peacekeeper to meet up with Fawn and her stylist backstage for the interviews.

"Hi," Fawn smiles, her silver dress flowing, a large train extending across the floor. "How did it go?"

"Great." I smile, hoping it masks my obvious discomfort.

The other tributes begin to pack in behind us, but no Ransom nor Minerva. Anubis is here, though, and even throws a dirty wink our way. Fawn visibly looks disgusted, turning around and looking away from him.

"You should say something back at him," I suggest, grinning wickedly. "I'm sure he won't be able to handle your seething tongue."

Fawn laughs a little. "I suppose so. Back in District One, I had a moan at someone, and they cried. Burst into tears."

"You're that good then?" I smirk.

"Definitely. Anubis wouldn't know what would hit him. But, forget him for now. Every time he talks, I'm almost sure the room begins to smell," I frown and look at her, waiting for the answer. She laughs lightly again and shakes her head. "It means he's full of shit, Kit. Talking a lot of shit, too. Ignore him and Minerva; the pair can go jump off a cliff."

"I'm not worried about them," I reply honestly, because yeah, yeah, I'm not scared of them. I pump myself up and start nodding, jumping up and down on the spot, grinning still. "Yeah, I'm definitely not scared of either of them."

Percival enters the room next, a simple suit the colour of white. Fawn looks at him cautiously before looking away, almost as if he's on fire and she can't bear the sight of him. I can't look away, though, and Percival winks, almost exactly like Anubis. No, correction. Anubis has the egotistical Career slot checked - but Percival's fighting his way in. Something tells me that the Careers will barely last a minute within the arena. If everything seems to go the way I think it might, we'll probably lose someone in the bloodbath. I instinctively slide my hand into Fawn's and squeeze. Anyone but her and I can live with it; I need a friend, and Fawn is just the right person for it.

* * *

**Ransom Denvir, District Two Male.**

* * *

Hermes Abbatone walks out onto the stage, his curly hair a dusty pink to match his dusty pink suit. He looks like a human doll, if I'm honest, cheeks rosy and smile false and plastic. Hermes is notorious for being, well, for being a total bastard. Every year, he trashes the tributes. It's almost like a pre-Games to start the cracks in our confidence before we rise tomorrow. Rather than being happy and kind, helping a tribute, he finds their weakness and begins to exploit it, asking tough questions to break said tribute and then to make the crowd laugh.

It's only gotten worse over the years. From the Quell onwards, Hermes has maintained a level of humanity laced with that of a self-righteous ass.

Three siblings I've watched die. Three. My eldest brother went in before the Quell and came so close, beaten by the girl from District One, Tassle King. Then my sister entered a year later, killed not long after the bloodbath; the Games that Lorcan Trump from District Six won. And then, lastly, my remaining brother. He died in the bloodbath, his district partner and my mentor, Tarzana, winning. Each year I watched them die. But, before that, I worked them break under Hermes' words. A sense of fear takes my body and I stiffen, the thoughts of how he almost put my sister on the verge of bursting into tears.

"Welcome Panem!" he shouts, arms in the air to move the crowd that roars in response. "Are you ready?"

Another roar.

"Well, please welcome, Fawn Asprey of District One!"

Fawn climbs the stage, her dress and train looking remarkably... well, just plain sexy, if I'm honest. It curves her body in all the right places and it really shows off her petite frame. I can almost feel the negative, jealous vibe radiating from Minerva in front. Hermes doesn't even help her into the seat before he fires the first question.

"So, Fawn, the first thing we'd like to know is, what diet are you on because you are just plain skinny and we're all jealous. Am I right folks?"

Fawn visibly looks angry by that comment. She smiles it away and flattens her dress. Come on Fawn. "Well, I would tell you, but it only works if you're naturally skinny anyway, and, well, it might not work for you Hermes."

The crowd laughs and Hermes blushes, a glint of something sinister in his eyes. He might have met his match with Fawn.

"She's terrible." Minerva complains from in front.

Kit turns around and frowns. "Hey, that's not cool. Don't talk about her whilst she can't defend herself."

Minerva snorts and tilts her head upwards, nose looking down at Kit. He clenches his fists and turns around, flashing an obvious angry look at me. I look away at the screen once more as the crowd roars in laughter once more, Fawn smiling and Hermes looking flustered behind belief, cheeks even more pink.

"She'll be dead in seconds," Minerva mumbles, hoping no-one hears. Kit doesn't, but I do. "I'll make sure of it myself if I have to. Fawn won't make it past the first night."

I know I should say something to defend Fawn, but the rational part of my brain urges against it. If I defend Fawn, maybe Minerva will know that there is more to it. Our little in-alliance can't be found out before the Games. I bite on my tongue and watch Fawn walk down the steps, a soft smile for me as she passes. Kit goes up next, a smooth interview, surprisingly, since Fawn has pretty much reduced the confidence of Hermes. He doesn't even get cocky - he asks questions and even looks bored. Kit steps down after, bowing to the crowd and walking away. He passes Minerva and glares, a sight you couldn't miss.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, Minerva Li of District Two!"

I watch from behind as Minerva - dressed in a short, electric blue dress with ruffles - ascends the steps to the stage. Hermes doesn't help her into the seat either, but his eyes are suddenly more accusing.

"How are you finding the Capitol, Minerva? I hear you fit in almost perfectly." Hermes starts, voice laced with a twisted humor.

"It's rather dull if you ask me. I mean, I was expecting something more tasteful, but it'll do, I suppose. Can't please everyone, sweetheart."

Hermes cracks a dark smile at that. Minerva seems to be the female version of him. She glances at me for a singular moment and smirks. It sends a torrent of confusion through my mind, but one thing is clear - Minerva is a competitor. She can play it from all angles. Our little in-alliance might find more struggles than we first thought.

* * *

**Nova Watts, District Three Female.**

* * *

Both the Careers districts done well. The girl from One had more snarkiness than I imagined. The boy was just as I expected - calm and considerate, a playful attitude buried by politeness. The girl from Two was menacing - the crowd froze when she rose and glanced outwards. Her district partner, Ransom, he done okay.

I watch him walk down the steps and let out a heavy breath, a tear spilling from one of his eyes. Hermes really laid into him. He brought up the fact that the Denvir family, so far, were nothing but losers. I didn't know that Ransom was a child of siblings who perished before him. I make a mental note and smile when Terris stands next to me properly, his hands sweeping his suit mindlessly.

"What are you doing?" I ask him, unable to hold back my smile.

"Dirt. Dust. I feel like it's everywhere." Terris mumbles.

"It's clean, Terrorist."

"Doesn't feel like it," he looks up and smiles apologetically, being the awkward boy I've learned he is. "You're next."

He jerks his head in the direction of the stage and the man with a waiting hand for me. I turn to Terris for a final moment and hug him softly. He doesn't say anything; really, I don't even know why I'm doing it. Back in District Three, I wasn't shown proper affection and I never learned to deal with it. People call me socially awkward or, in the worser cases, socially retarded. Still. Terris lets go and smiles reassuringly as I turn and take the waiting hand. I hear my name called out and I walk forward, bright lights and cheers covering the stage. I can barely see.

My foot catches on the bottom of my dress and I flounder, hands sprawling out as I go crashing to the floor. The crowd gasps and my wrist suddenly hurts a lot more than it should.

A hand - rather rough and not-so-polite - yanks me from the ground and places me in the chair gruffly. I blink for a few moments and try to swallow down the embarrassment.

"Well that was quiet an entrance," Hermes smirks from across the gap. "That concerned about making yourself stand out, Nova?"

I shake my head. "No, no. It was my dress and the bright lights. I couldn't see."

"Hmm. Yet, four other tributes managed it. Are you sure it wasn't a part of your angle?"

Hermes is so straight to the point and realistic, it's kinda annoying. I straighten out my dress and flex my wrist that still hurts, all whilst Hermes continues to look on accusingly. I avoid his eyes and cough, hoping to change the subject rather fast. He catches on, though, and I see his pink hair bob along.

"Very well. How about this then. Nova, your score was a 5, much more than anyone was expecting. How did you do it?"

Poisons. Not so much poisons, but natural ingredients. Terris now knows and he seemed rather happy with it. I know enough about the ground to know what plants are poisonous or not and what plants I can use and abuse, so to speak. I noticed it in training almost instantly. The plants section contained this weird plant I learned was a Yellow Fever leaf. Apparently, a good enough dose can produce paranoia, hallucinations and even death if it's large enough. Blow gun and that, well, it worked better than I thought.

"Secret." I smile.

"No hints?"

"None. Just know that age means nothing in a game of skill and luck."

* * *

**Odette Leith, District Four Female.**

* * *

"Odette Leith of District Four!"

Percival playfully pushes me forward and I smile confusingly, unable to understand where I stand with him. One minute, he's kind and nice, and then the next, he's a total ass pushing me around and throwing food at me. He definitely knows how to twist someone's brain; I can't work him out and what our relationship is. I climb the steps, pushing back the thoughts of him. This is for me right now. Hermes smiles as predatory as ever as I take my seat opposite him.

"Odette, Odette, Odette. What are your plans now that your district partner has clearly outshone you?"

I growl under my breath and try to keep calm. He did outshine me; too much, even. A 12 is great, but far too great. Something else is up with that, because even when Percival saw his score, he wasn't cocky about it. He frowned and looked at the number as if it were on fire. He didn't even expect that high score, which means that something, or someone, is out to get poor Percy. "I have no idea. But I'll make it happen."

I don't try to jazz up my words like the little kids did, or even be rude like Fawn or polite like Kit. No, my approach is pretty simple, and that's hidden anger.

"Do you think it's possible?" he smiles, leaning forward. "A 12 is pretty legendary. Only a few have ever been handed out and they've always, always lasted longer than their district partner. Peeta Mellark anyone?"

The crowd erupts into a cheer of applause and laughter. He's right there. Everyone who has ever gotten a 12 has lasted longer than their district partner. Might not have won, sure, but lasted longer than their other-half. I nod in response, keeping my mouth in a thin line. "I suppose you're right again. But, I have no idea. I can make it happen though."

Hermes smirks again, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands on his lap. "Are you worried that he's stolen your limelight?"

"Never."

"What about him being a larger member, favourite-wise? The Capitol audience love Percival. Does that bother you at all?"

I grit my teeth. "Never."

"We'll see my dear," Hermes claps. A loud buzzer goes off and Hermes rises, placing his arm. "The ever-so-charming Odette Leith, everyone!"

I force myself up out of the chair as fast as I can and stomp off the stage. Percival's there, right at the bottom of the steps, smile clear on his face. He doesn't say anything and I'm partially grateful for that. Right now, the last thing I need nor want is Percival's attitude flaring up in my face. So I'm the Career member that nobody cares about, that nobody thinks will do it. Fawn has her beauty, Kit and his charisma, Minerva's witty remarks and Ransom's kindness. Anubis being from another district and Percival with his high score and even higher attitude. I'm just Odette Leith, the little extra on the side. Have they forgotten that my score, my skills, outshine half the others? I done better than Fawn. Than Ransom. Even Anubis, our great leader.

But no. I'm Odette Leith; the forgettable Career. The angry one. The one that no-one cares about. My fist flies out and punches the wall, scaring the little girl from District Three. They'll care about me eventually. They'll remember me - they'll have to, they'll have to remember their Victor - the girl who singlehandedly murdered each Career during the bloodbath.

* * *

**Stellan Kingsley, District Five Male.**

* * *

As I descend the steps from the stage, I feel a little sick. They asked about my family - my family without parents. He must have thought I was crazy. There he goes, all fishing and searching for answers, giving me a simple question because I'm one of the more average tributes hidden. And then there's me, going on an emotional tirade about my parents that aren't around anymore. My mother being dead. My father being a coward and abandoning a family that he couldn't bare to look at.

I gruffly wipe at my eyes with my sleeve, walking further and further into the shadows of the stage. All the other tributes are either waiting around in their polite line or even gone back to their apartment for a full sleep. Me, well, I don't think I can face Zeke and India and even Cordelia, if she's allowed out. Zeke told me to at least be strong. Maybe not hollow and tough - like the girl from Four portrayed - but at least strong; to not let Hermes break my shell.

That didn't happen.

The mention of my parents crumbled everything around me. Worse of all? The crowd didn't seem so pitiful. Their faces were stony and grim, looks of disgust and minor disappointment at me not being as amazing as India was. They probably expected more; I'm eighteen years old, why do I care about losing parents? They forget that. They forget I'm still young, I still need parents to help me.

I take a heavy breath and sit down, trying to calm myself. My fingers run through my hair and I keep breathing harder and harder, determined to not let the emotions overtake me. I don't have parents to return to, but I have siblings, young siblings, siblings from a broken family that's tearing at the seams and continuing to do so. None of my siblings are of reaping age - they're all younger; the eldest being seven and the youngest being four.

Where have they gone to? I don't know. Probably shipped off to the local orphanage until I either return, or the more likely answer, that I don't.

A heavy thud happens to my left and the wooden bench dips. I look up from the floor to find Theon, breaking the rules and exiting the line.

"Are you okay? Don't let him get to you. You need to have a clear mind for tomorrow, man." he says casually, his voice so strong.

I nod carefully. "Y-Yeah. Yeah I know. Just, you know, reality is sinking in really fast."

"Always does when you're having fun," Theon says lightheartedly, nudging me to the side. He waits and watches until I crack a smile. "There you go. Look, I know we're only allies for benefits and everything, and you probably think I only want you to have a clear mind so it'll benefit me, but... but I think you need to calm down. For yourself. Use the emotions as a driving force."

"Like your children?" I ask, voice on the verge of breaking.

I watch the lump in his throat bob up and down, followed by his head. "Like my children."

"Hey! Get back in line now!" Me and Theon look up to the angry attendant, eyes flared in authority. Theon smiles and rises from his seat, patting me carefully on the shoulder before walking away. The attendant looks at me next, glare still in tact. "I think you should go back to your apartment, Five."

I obey and rise, taking another calming breath before walking to the elevator.

Use my emotions as a driving force.

Somehow, I don't think they'll be enough.

Emotions were never a quality a murderer needed. It makes it easier for them to take another life.

* * *

**Justice Florence, District Six Female.**

* * *

I couldn't have picked a more perfect alliance.

Each one of them - Ezra, Ewan and Challis - they are all remarkably different and unique. Challis is the epitome of boy fantasies; a chirpy laugh, bright eyes and long, blonde hair. Ewan is probably the opposite, being a girl's fantasy; bad-boy attitude, a cocky charm and then rugged looks. Lastly, Ezra, whose looks might not be fantasy-worthy, but his personality is what every girl wants; charismatic, charming and golden-hearted.

The three of them form an unusual, well-balanced alliance. Challis will bring in sponsors. Ezra will win favouritism. Ewan has the fighting skills.

And then there's me, the token child.

I admit, I'm probably the odd one out. I'm not fawning over Challis like the two boys are so obviously doing, and I'm not wooing the boys by constantly flicking my hair and batting my eyelashes.

They think of me as a quiet, shy child. I've been acting like that the entire time. Sitting there, observing them all, learning things that I shouldn't know. Everyone back in District Six knows me as the weird child. The child of a Mortician. My father, Doctor Florence, often performed autopsies on the dead and I would watch him doing it. When I wasn't at school, or studying at home, I was with my father, watching him open up the human body with a knife to see inside. I'm not morbid; but it made me curious.

How does the human body work?

Why do things fail? Why do we need blood?

Why do people die?

Constant questions in a child's mind. I had always been fascinated with my father's choice of profession. Sometimes, he'd let me drag the knife down. Sometimes, he'd let me examine the body with a magnifying glass. He only ever encouraged my morbid fascination, cause yes, I'm not morbid, but my fascination can be classed as that.

I stand up and reposition myself, sitting back down and crossing my legs. The rough carpet feels good against my bare legs.

Tomorrow we head to the arena. I'll look for Ewan and Ezra and Challis, no doubt finding the two boys trying to save her in particular. They won't care about me; they tolerate me in the alliance because sweet, beautiful Challis wants me there. If she says jump, they ask her how high.

I'm just waiting for the day she asks them to kill themselves, and they ask her how she wants them to do it.

There's a soft knock on my door and I crane my head to see, watching it open to the face of an Avox. She politely bows her head and I allow her in with a wave of my hand. I spin myself on the floor and watch her begin to sort through my drawers. She folds everything and flattens them out. I wonder what it looks like, having no tongue, that is? I tilt my head as the curiosity flows through my mind. She wouldn't be able to tell anyone if I happened to have a look.

Besides. She's suppose to do what I say, isn't she?

I stand up and walk towards her. She stops and turns around, eyes confused and looking straight at me for an answer.

"Can I see inside your mouth please?"

* * *

**Ewan Cole, District Seven Male.**

* * *

The cold splash of something on my face jerks me awake. I literally throw myself upwards and out of my bed, every nerve and alarm in my body ringing. I hear the familiar laugh - muffled by a hand - before I see her face, smiles and child eyes, her other hand holding the empty glass.

"That was uncalled for," I gape, a playful tone to my voice. I step forward, water rolling down and soaking my bed top. "I suppose you'll have to help me clean it up."

I fly across the room and grab her quickly, a squeal escaping her throat as I lock my arms around her waist. I lift her up with ease - since Laurel is pretty small and she is young - and throw her on the damp bed that she caused. She lands with a breathy laugh, bouncing up and down for a while before coming to a stop. She rolls onto her front, ignoring the damp sheets, and looks at me.

"What?" I smile.

"Nothing. Just, aren't you nervous?"

"Do you mean for today?"

She shrugs, unable to come up with an answer for it. I guess she doesn't need to. For her age, she must be worrying about her chances. Not many young tributes - twelve, thirteen, even fourteen - ever become Victor. I mean, it's not entirely possible since some chances have happened, but the odds are almost double-not in her favour. I sit down next to her and open my arms, watching Laurel shuffle herself into them.

"I'm nervous. Very nervous. But, I know there's no way to fight it. You're only as strong as the fears you're willing to face."

"I don't want to face it though." Laurel mumbles, voice muffled by my body.

"No-one does. But as I said, there isn't a way to fight it. We can only try our best. We can only try altogether, really."

"Thank you for being there for me, Ewan. I don't think I could have handled this all on my own."

"Always," I reply, suddenly at a loss of what to say. She couldn't handle this all on her own, and yet, she has no allies. I didn't even bother to ask her; I mean, she stated she didn't want anyone, and I accepted that, but maybe I should have fought it more. I mean, if we can accept Justice, I'm sure we can accept Laurel. She done better than all the others, come to think of it. I look down at the top of her head and smile. "Always."

"Guys! Come on, breakfast is waiting!" I hear Maple shout.

Laurel shuffles out of my arms and sprints for the door, only turning around to stick out her tongue, an attempt to turn the sour mood back to sweet. But it's too late for that. She's right; no-one wants to face it. I don't either. I'm scared out of my fucking mind. In a few hours, maybe in a day or two, I could possibly die. And what have I got to show for it? Nothing. I never accomplished anything worthwhile back in District Seven.

"Ewan! Move your ass!" Spruce chimes in now.

I rise from the bed and peel my shirt off, replacing it with a clean one. There's no point thinking about it anymore. Again, like I said, there isn't a way to fight it.

We're but puppets on their strings.

* * *

**Challis Glenley, District Eight Female.**

* * *

"Isn't he ready yet or not?" Chiffon asks Velvet. She simply shrugs and Chiffon frowns. "It's not like he's rebelling. But what could possibly be taking him this long?"

"Morning. No need to bow." Anubis beams wickedly as he walks in the apartment.

He takes his seat and an uncomfortable silence falls upon the table. Throughout the time in the Capitol, Velvet has been increasingly meek towards Anubis. She tried to be nice and he rebuffed her. That, in turn, led Chiffon to constantly glower at him whether she saw him. In the end, by the interviews last night, both of them had given up trying to help him; he was a lost cause.

"Aren't you going to eat something Challis?" Chiffon asks, eyes soft as she inspects my empty plate.

"No thank you." I shake my head, keeping my hands in my lap.

The scores and the interview really took their toll on me. At first, I was happy. Ezra and Ewan were kind enough to join the alliance we had formed. Then, we accepted Justice, simply because she was on her own. I would laugh and smile, enjoying the company of all three of them. Ewan would be kind, making jokes and playfully teasing the others. Ezra would be chivalrous, helping me with the stations I struggled on. Justice would always be there, nearby, watching and smiling for support. My alliance was perfect.

Now, it's not.

Now, reality has hit home. I can't be with them forever, and the likelihood is, one of them - maybe even me - might die during the bloodbath or straight after. The larger the alliance, the more casualties, that's what Ewan said; that was his reason for wanting to reject Justice, for not being entirely happy when he found out Ezra was a part of our alliance to. He didn't want a large alliance; and we managed to trap him in.

I gulp down the lump in my throat and look at Anubis carefully, watching him sip on his orange juice.

The food is good, great even, but I can bring myself to stomach any of it. I can't bear to look at it either. I bow my head and look back at my hands, waiting for the time to be over. Each look at the food brings a sense of dread deep in my heart. It's all the foods I'd have back at home - food most of my district couldn't afford. I had a great life with royalties and riches. Now, I might never see it again. The likely chance is that I won't see it again.

"Challis, please eat something," Velvet encourages me, scooping up some cereal and placing it in a bowl. She slides it across the table with a soft smile. "Please. You need to eat something."

"Yeah Challis, eat something. Think of it as your last supper." Anubis chimes in.

Velvet gives him a weary look as she retreats back to her own breakfast. I feel the tears prick at my eyes from Anubis' comment. He's right, of course he's right, this is probably my last supper. I hardly doubt I'll walk away as the Victor, which means I'm going to die in an arena where I need to hunt down my own food. This is truly my last supper. With a shaky hand, I pick up the spoon and scoop up some cereal and milk, forcing it in my mouth and down my throat. Velvet smiles when I swallow, happy to either see me eating or listening to her.

"I can't wait. I really can't. I didn't expect myself to be this excited by it all. At first, I was like meh, it's no big deal, but now, now I'm literally jumping up and down!" Anubis shares, a grin plastered on his face.

"You won't be that excited when you find out what it's really like." Chiffon glares.

Anubis raises his hand and holds it out to her. "Talk to the hand, Chiffon, you can't ruin this for me."

She rolls her eyes and looks away, first at her bowl, and then at me. She smiles comfortingly but I know what she's really trying to say; she's saying goodbye, because she knows I'm not going to return.

* * *

**Fay Amaris, District Nine Female.**

* * *

The ride up the elevator is thundering. I clamp my hand over my ears, close my eyes, and try to focus on something else; my brother.

I try to remember his face. The way the bridge of his nose has a bump over it. His grey, stormy eyes that looked both caring and weathered at the same time. His hair - shaggy and a sandy colour - that used to hang over his eyes and sometimes hide them. Luke. I need to remember Luke. When everything would get too much, the noises and the sounds and the thudding, he'd be there, hugging me and telling me that everything would be alright.

He was my comfort blanket.

But I have to face this on my own.

India and Colton are kind, they help me, but they don't understand me. They don't understand how much I depend on others to help me along. They just don't understand me. Full stop.

The elevator doors open and Bailey ushers Quinlan out, directing him in one direction towards one of the two hovercrafts. They're large and silver, each home to twelve tributes for just a few minutes or up to an hour. Their engines must be large too; the roaring sound - no matter how muted - still beckons in my ear like a wild animal. I wince and don't move, all the fears and paranoia bubbling up in my chest and heart.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It'll be fine." Buck whispers, his voice surprisingly soothing.

His large hands land on my shoulders and push me forward carefully, leading me towards the opposite hovercraft. I won't have to see Quinlan now until on the plates, and even then, he might be obscured by the Cornucopia. We stop by the entrance, and as I glance around me at the other tributes, I realise that I'm the only one who needed their mentor to escort them all the way to the actual ship. I should feel embarrassed, but that emotion has long since disappeared, overwhelmed by fear and sickness.

"Fay, look at me," Buck asks, turning me around with his hands and then smiling softly. "You need to get on the hovercraft and everything. You know that. But, what you don't know, is that they will need to inject you with something."

I flinch at the mention of injection and go cold within his hands. Needles and me have never got on that well. The sight of them piercing your skin and going inside your body... it's enough to make me feel sick. Right now, it's sickness, it's always just that until I'm actually face-to-face with one. When that happens, I freak. I black out and only remember the constant beeping noise. The doctors in their white suits rushing around and talking to each other in a hasty fashion. The long, sharp needle piercing aged skin...

"Fay?"

I snap back out of it at the sound of Buck's calm voice. "Yeah?"

"Just one little needle. They need to for the tracker, and, and, that's it, I promise you," his voice sounds so real and trusting, I nod along. "Okay, now, good luck, and remember everything you've learned here, got it?"

I nod again and Buck wraps me in a quick, tight hug. I let myself melt into the comfort before he lets go, smiling softly as he turns to leave. I'm left alone. I scan the group of tributes waiting to board my hovercraft, deflated when I realise that neither India nor Colton are with me. After a while, a woman calls us on, one by one. I wait with the dwindling numbers, my eyes locked on the other tributes across the building rooftop. Someone from behind me nudges me forward and I stumble up the slope, quickly grabbed by an attendant who shoves me into one of the seats.

I breathe heavily and harsh, trying to cope with the potential panic attacks. The girl opposite me - the one from District Ten - offers an awkward smile before looking away. I can see in her eyes that she's nervous to. The noise is harsh once more, the sound of the engine blaring in my ears. A woman approaches me and begins to talk, but I can't hear her whatsoever. I squint my eyes and lean forward, and that's when she pulls out the needle.

The noise instantly cuts off then.

"This needle is for your tracker," she states calmly, leaning forward and pushing the needle into my skin. It takes me all self-control not to scream and lash out, but instead, I bite down on my tongue until I taste blood and pray for it to be faster. She pulls the needle out and I sigh. "And now, your second needle."

* * *

**Serena Pierce, District Ten Female.**

* * *

My eyes grow wide at the sight of the second needle, poised to enter the girl from Nine's arm. She looks terrified - her own eyes as large as saucers - staring at the woman as if she's plain crazy. A second injection? As far as I knew, and from what Sunny told me, there is only one and that's for the tracker. I watch with knitted eyebrows as another attendant rushes over and begins to restrain the girl as she flips, lashing out angrily and screaming.

Every other tribute in the hovercraft turns and stares, the majority looking on with mouths agape.

Finally they managed to jab it in, rather hard. The girl has tears down her face but when the attendant with the needle walks away, she calms down, breathing heavily and squeezing her eyes shut. I've always imagined she'd act like that; I watched her from afar during the training, just by accident, and she constantly clamped her hands over her ears and seemed on the verge of breaking down.

She eventually comes down the line to me. I hold out my arm and wince as the first and then second needle are injected in my arm. I make note of the colour of the liquid entering my body; a dull lilac.

When things seem to calm down, the hovercraft feels light, rising into the sky. I hold on and try to focus on what might come. It could anything, and that is what terrifies me the most. I have Katey, sure, but what can she do against other tributes? No offence to her - she's my ally and even though I can't fully trust her, it'll come - but Katey isn't exactly the strongest looking girl in the entire world and her score was just as average as mine.

Two average girls.

I close my eyes and try to relax, holding onto the bars for support. The flight is smooth and careful, in fact, it doesn't even feel like we're moving. I peer out of one of my eyes for just a split second, scanning the other tributes in the hovercraft with me. I don't know anyone by name and I want to keep it that way. I recognise traits and faces, but that's it. The Nine girl and her unusual personality. The boy from Eleven, all lightened eyes and snarky grins. Katey's district partner, looking rather laid-back and chill.

Everyone is experiencing this differently. I think this was what Sunny must have referred to when she said that people cope with things differently. Some are scared, some are keeping true, and others, including myself, are trying to calm down and relax. Well, not so much relax but focus.

I suddenly feel the hovercraft slow down and look up, bracing myself as we begin to descend. Every tribute around me now looks alert, watching with eyes to maybe sneak a glance of the arena before going underground to the Launch Room. The door pops open and light blasts in, causing everyone to squint their eyes at the sharpness. I hear footsteps before there's a noise, the sound of my seatbelt being unfastened. Someone pulls me up by my shoulder and begins to lead me out.

It takes a moment for my eyes to re-adjust and, just as I expected, I'm met with the cold, stone walls of the Launch Room. I don't even know why I hoped to see the arena, the chance was beyond ridiculous.

One by one, the tributes are led down halls by an attendant, stopping by doors and then pushing them in. I stop in front of the metal door and expect the same, watching it open before I suddenly thrust forward. However, unlike others, I trip, going down and landing directly on my chest, knocking away the air to my lungs.

"Oh dear, you must be careful!" a chirpy voice tuts, the sound of clipping heels following. I look up to my stylist, forcing away the redness on my face. After everything, I shouldn't be used to embarrassment. When it gets thrown at you, all at once, you get used to it so much that you don't feel the heat no more. "Now, would you like to look at your outfit?"

I wince at the word. I hate being dressed up. Being dressed up just reminds me of... my past. I nod and follow her across the room to the table, a plastic bag resting on top.

"We'll start with the shoes, because what girl doesn't love shoes?" she beams, plucking up the chunky brown boots from the floor. "Eh. Well, maybe not these shoes, but still, shoes are shoes and I'm totally jealous you get a new pair!"

"What are they good for?" I ask, more curious to what they can do, hinting the arena to me.

"Well. The treads are just to die for, so I'm guessing rough terrain? Possibly rocks and dirt, maybe even just the Earth. They're strong enough to grip the floor and help you push forward to run, so running might be expected."

That doesn't paint a clear picture. Most arenas nowadays are placed outside, so being rock, dirt and the plain ground doesn't help. Well, at least I know it isn't snow or water, so that counts out two possibilities. I should feel grateful, actually, because snow and water are not things I'd like to spend a few days around. But as I take the boots from her and slip them on, my heart sinks.

This is really it. After I'm prepped, I'm going in. I'm going into the game of death.

There's no turning back. No fighting it, only facing it.

Somehow, I know I'm just not ready.

* * *

**Bracken Mathis, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

"Now, here's the top," the parrot squawks, her red hair just as striking as it's always been. "It's tan colour, so maybe it's for camouflage."

I take the top from her and drop it to the floor, quickly peeling my own top from my body. She's too busy looking at the clothes in the bag that, when she looks up, she shrieks and closes her eyes.

"Bracken! You need to change when I'm not looking!"

"You weren't looking," I scoff, putting the top on. "You think you'd be used to naked children by now."

She seems disgusted as she fishes for what must be the trousers. Instead, she brings up a pair of shorts, tan colour also. She hands them to me and squeezes her eyes shut, using her hand to gesture for me to strip down.

"Thank you for allowing to get changed, oh great one," I say sarcastically, shuffling out of my trousers and replacing them quickly with the shorts. "You can look and admire now."

She opens her eyes warily and, when realising I'm not naked in front of her, she smiles and begins to look more closer. I feel the bubbling start of something sarcastic on my tongue, but, alas, I feel like I should at least hear this part out. I mean, I have no plans to actually go and win, but it'd be nice to know what the idea of these clothes are.

"As I stated earlier, I think the idea of the tan shorts and top is to ensure camouflage, possibly."

I mindlessly pull the edge of my top, realising how large it is compared to my smaller but chiseled frame. The stylist taps her chin and grabs it herself. "Well, what does your genius mind think of this then?"

"I'm guessing that it's large to compensate the weather, perhaps. It could be hot and if so, this is so you don't overheat. Then again, it could be ridiculously cold, and then this is so that you have enough material to help keep you warm."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Yes, it doesn't really. I go with the hot weather, because if so, that would blend with the boots. Their treads are so that you can run and maneuver on tough terrain. So, I'm guessing hot and rocky, so possibly a desert?"

"I didn't think you were allowed to guess, or that you were capable of thinking in general." I smirk, turning around to look at the clock. "Well, I still have ten minutes, so do you want to explain what the second injection on the hovercraft was?"

"Second injection?" the parrot squawks. "I have no idea, Bracken. I only sort out your uniform and know what things are for."

"Of course you are," I say mindlessly, my thoughts going back to the injection. Why did I need liquid in my body? I should have stamped on her feet or something. After the girl from Nine freaked out, I should have caught on almost instantly that there was something up with that. Or, of course, she's just batshit crazy. "So, anything else I should know about, parrot?"

The bird glares before dipping into the bag one final time, pulling forth a brown, patterned scarf. She steps forward - or flutters like a little colourful butterfly - and begins to loop the material around my neck. I open my mouth to ask what the hell this is, but she catches my words and cuts them.

"This was what made me think of it being cold. But, it could also mean dust and sand. I'm definitely leaning towards it's being a desert more."

"Good observation there."

"You know, Bracken, your attitude will only take you so far in life."

I smirk. "I think it's taken me as far as I need to go, actually, but thanks for the concern."

* * *

**Colton Dacanay, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

I wait and wait, eyes locked on the glass tube presented in the corner of the room. A torrent of emotions are within me at the moment, but none of them are really that positive. Sick to my stomach. Scared. Fearful. Terrified. Yeah, most of them are about my fears for the unexpected, the unknown, the arena, basically. Anything could be above me.

I glance at the clock for a second, taking note of the time. Launch in five minutes. I stand up and shake my arms and jiggle my legs, keeping the blood flowing for what might be forever.

They say that time slows down when you're having fun, but surely it works for the other way, for when you're anticipating something? It must do. I watch the hand tick just a second, painstakingly slow.

"Calm down Colton and just rest. Everything will be fine." my stylist, Pedro, commands.

"Can you be so sure, Pedro? Really? Because, you know, I'd be happy to swap places with you and you go up the tube."

"No need to be snarky, I'm just trying to help."

"Yeah, whatever," I shake my head, biting my tongue to stop me from biting back at the innocent man once again. It isn't his fault, but really, it's not mine either. We're both but pawns on a master chessboard. I look at the clock again and run my hands down the tan top I've been handed. It's a lot larger than my actual body, though, but I guess it's suppose to be like that. When I questioned Pedro on it, he snapped and seemed almost guilty, like I just accused him of murder.

That's a joke I'd laugh at to be honest. Accusing him of murder. But, I guess, it's not the right moment; I could be accused of that in just a few seconds, and I can't deny it, because every camera and every citizen around Panem is watching me. My family is watching me.

I look to the clock again, something to help distract me. Two minutes. Oh, it's going faster. Now I wish it would slow down and never happen. I think nearly every tribute - minus the Careers - must be having this thought. The thought of wanting to just walk away and pretend none of this is real, make ourselves believe that, indeed, this is nothing but a dream and that we can wake up when we choose.

"Time for launch."

I look to the ceiling and then Pedro, but he confirms my suspicion by pointing to the ceiling. I take a heavy breath and cross the room, taking the deadly step onto the plate. Pedro smiles warmly as the glass tube descends downwards and encases me. I place my hands out on instinct, fearing the lack of space. I'm not even remotely claustrophobic; but I guess your mind tricks you into being scared of everything in a situation like this.

Slowly, the plate begins to rise in tune with my heart sinking. I hold my breath and keep my eyes straight ahead, determined to see what is right in front of me. Light begins to stream from the top, like a portal, and I push up through it.

The first thing I register is the soft, dusty breeze that hits my neck. I sniff, the smell of dried up grass and thick soil in the air. I blink a few times, adjusting to the sharp light, before surveying the surroundings behind me... except, I don't see much. A rocky knoll is encasing me, like a pit. I glance at the plants - sage and yellow, most of them - that line the hill that's topped off with tall, yellow grass. So, it begins in a pit, with the rest of the arena pretty much up over that hill and extending downwards. I look down to the ground and see the same yellow grass making the plate obscured. It takes a moment to realise that it must be about knee-height, maybe a little shorter, stretching out across the entire field before me. From this view, the tributes furthest away look like they're balanced on the pointy tips of the grass.

The golden Cornucopia blends in perfectly. The skin shimmers underneath a blaring sun, dazzling as waves of light skim it and roll, giving it the impression of water and waves. The mouth faces me, surprisingly, stacked up to the top with weapons and orange backpacks and boxes.

Usually, though, items are spread around the Cornucopia too. I scan the grass again for some hint of items, seeing patches where the grass must be weighed down. I look up again, not really knowing where to look or how to think, only registering the surroundings of what could be just about anything. I catch a glimpse of Katey, a few plates away, and that kicks my mind into thinking about my alliance.

I find India easily, not far from Katey. She notices me and smiles wearily. Fay, however, I cannot find, so she must be opposite me.

I glance back to the Cornucopia and focus in on a certain backpack. I'll fight my way for that backpack with all my might.

If they want to treat us like animals, well, we're bound to act like animals.

* * *

******Spectrum by Florence + The Machine.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Any ideas for what the second injection contains? Any ideas on who you might think will die in the bloodbath?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**I just want to place this note here. All the submitters for this story have been genuinely awesome. The majority of you - and I'm talking nearly every single one of you - has reviewed every single chapter and I appreciate that. Honestly, it makes me smile so much that you guys care enough. Usually, at this point, I have my bloodbaths settled and I use the tributes of submitters who don't review as bloodbath fodder. For once, I have no bloodbath fodder, except like two. This note is for all the submitters - if your tribute is bloodbathed, I'm truly sorry, especially if you've been reviewing constantly. It's nothing personal, but since I can't use my sole hatred for lacking submitters who don't care, I'll have to go with general realism and what story arcs and plots I have in mind.**

**Nothing personal, honestly, and I appreciate every single character in this story, it just wouldn't be the same if all twenty-four didn't exist.**

**For the bloodbath - like with my all my stories - it more than likely won't be a bloodshed battle with about half dead. I'll kill between five to seven maximum. That way, I can keep the story interesting with different views constantly.**

**And there is another poll too! This time, go and tell me the tributes you want to definitely make it past the bloodbath, as this might help me make the harder decisions on tributes on the fence.**

**Also, for people who were confused with the scores; one thing, and that's Rue, who got a 7, at the age of 12, for leaping from heights and being cute. That is all. Perfect scores are never perfect, so remember that, too.**

**Next week, we get into the Games ;o**


	8. Stop And Stare

**Stop And Stare.**

_I think I'm moving but I go nowhere. Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared._

* * *

**Ransom Denvir, District Two Male.**

* * *

_"Ladies and gentlemen, let the One Hundred and Fifth Annual Hunger Games begin!" _

I look to the sky where Gregor Flack's voice disappears. My eyes flick briefly from the countdown on the horn to the ground, a path I can't seem to pick. Saying that this moment - this moment full of nerves and anticipation and everything - scares me, well, that would be an understatement. I'm actually terrified. Saying it out loud makes me sound pathetic, especially for being a Career, but I am. I never really wanted this.

That's the worse thing. The training was all just a gimmick, just to please my mother. Then, the Capitol, it was cool meeting people like Kit and Fawn, building a trusted friendship whilst making enemies. It was a little adventure. And now, that adventure has come crumbling down. I knew this would happen, I'm not a complete idiot. I just didn't expect my heart to hiccup with every second that dies on the clock. It's like time is slowing down, forcing me to just stop and stare at what will unfold.

_60..._

My eyes quickly flick to Fawn, four plates away from me. The gentle breeze whips her blonde strands into her face, masking her eyes from my view. From her composure, though, I can tell Fawn is holding steady. She doesn't shake or cry like some of the other tributes around her, but she doesn't seem ready to run. A stone, really, but a hot one.

Kit isn't too far from her, either. In fact, we lucked out. Four plates between me and Fawn, whilst Kit is two down from Fawn. I can see them both clearly and that makes our job a lot easy. Fawn's plan was simple, and we'll stick to it, but it's nice to know that the two people you can actually trust are just a few positions away, and not shrouded by the horn; something which hides both Anubis and Minerva from my view. That's dangerous. If what Fawn said was correct, then easily, really easily, they could just jump us and attack when we aren't expecting.

The bloodbath is that place - Careers don't turn on each other here. Not when it's this early on.

_50...40..._

Fawn finally turns and, despite sparkly eyes, she seems okay. She flashes a soft smile and turns back again to face the Cornucopia. I doubt she's upset - probably the wind wetting her eyes. I can practically taste the dirt floating on the breeze. I run my tongue across my bottom lip, tugging the scarf up so that it covers my mouth and nose, stopping sand from drifting up. I guess that was the point of the scarf. If it wasn't, well, screw them.

I hear the hiccup of someone crying and turn around, the little girl from District Nine just two plates away, the boy from District Seven separating us. Tears are streaming her face and her hands are clamped over her ears, no sign of them moving. I doubt she even hears the countdown or the haunting sound of the ticking fingers. In a scenario like this, everything seems more much... sinister. I have no idea how my siblings coped with this - then again, they didn't, because they died, and that was something my mother never cared about and yet repeated over and over again, telling me that I have to do better. That I mustn't die. That I must win, for her, not me. The emotions cause a lump in my throat and I swallow thickly.

No. This isn't the time to get emotional and crap. This is a time to fight and survive.

_30..._

I look straight ahead, the side of the Cornucopia just slightly spilling out. I can't see what is inside, but I know that the better weapons are there. I don't want to kill anyone, but I need to protect myself obviously. I'll play it defensive, all the while keeping my morals for a few more hours.

The hiccup of the girl crying again hits my ears and I wince, the reality of everything catching up to me much faster than I expected, hitting me full on like the speeding train I arrived from District Two in.

_20...10..._

This is it.

There's no time to think, only act.

To only act and defend. To protect my allies and ensure their safety, too.

I'm not a loyal person whatsoever - but from them, I will be. I'll be loyal to them for as long as it seems fit.

_0..._

The gong rings out and chaos ensues. Everyone leaps from their plate, dashing forward with all their might. I glance to the side, just to make sure that Fawn and Kit are running too, which they are. I'm one of the fastest people I know. In fact, not many people could beat my time at the Training Center. I'm one of the first people at the Cornucopia, alongside Kit, speedy as I expected. I grab the large knife laid out against the box and turn around, Kit and another knife with me.

"Boys," Percival smiles, out of breath, picking up a rapier and nodding. "Have fun."

He runs away with a smile on his face. Sadistic bastard.

The tributes come in, and instantly, I find myself wincing from the punch delivered by the male from District Six. I buckle over from the attack, his rough hand finding my sides and then thrusting me - pretty damn hard - to the side. I sprawl out in the long grass and take in a mouthful of dirt. I hear another thud and quickly panic, possibly assuming that Kit is dead. Instead, as I pull myself to my knees, I see him getting up to, a purple bruise forming on his jaw.

The male from District Six is gone.

Kit looks at me and I look at him. He flashes a humorous smile that quickly fades when realisation hits us.

Fawn.

We snap our heads in the direction of our ally, running towards us with flushed cheeks. She smiles briefly and pats Kit on the back, digging into the Cornucopia as Anubis and Minerva arrives, Odette not far behind them.

* * *

**Fay Amaris, District Nine Female.**

* * *

I can't make my legs move. No matter how many times I beg them to, I just can't. They shake and wobble, but won't take a step. The noise doesn't help either. The loud thud from the hand on the clock just drummed into my skull, increasing the pressure and making everything seem fuzzy. It brought me back to the time I was waiting for her. Waiting to see my mother. I hadn't seen her in weeks, but a visit was allowed. Before, I had been terrified, but my brother assured me that we need to see her, that I couldn't keep living with the fear I have for her.

Well, not her, but what she became.

They wheeled her out of her pristine white room, a blanket stuffing her into the seat so that she couldn't move her arms or legs. Belts were probably underneath, too, keeping her trapped like an insane person. Except... she was insane, and I feared for being the same.

The sound of a sickening cry breaks through the faded memories and alerts me enough to peel my eyes open.

The girl from District Eight - her blonde hair and teary blue eyes - wobbles on her legs, a knife clear in her upper chest. I watch, horrified, as blood begins to pool at her mouth and then slides down slowly. Whose knife is that? I find the answer to my question easily. Only one person practiced with throwing knives. Quinlan comes sprinting out of nowhere, a backpack on his shoulder and a pack of knives in his hand. He runs straight for the pretty girl, pushing his hand out. It collides with the handle of the knife and hastily digs into her deeper and faster. Blood squirts out and she falls back, body suddenly swallowed by the tall grass. Quinlan? He just keeps on running, as if nothing

Finally, I push myself off the plate, falling to my knees. I'm small, and the grass hides me well. I begin to crawl forwards, eyes flicking open and shut, straining against the droning noise that hammers against my head, waiting to break in.

I hear another cry and freeze. That was a lot closer compared to the girl from Eight.

I hear the squelch of metal carving through skin, the cry now much more broken and torn, before the horrifying sound of blood squirting. I don't move; but I don't need to. The victim falls down almost in front of me, taking away some of my grass. I freeze and pray not to be seen, tears pricking at my eyes and the sound just drumming, drumming, drumming against my brain. When I focus in, I know the victim; the boy from District Five.

His eyes are open, colourless, a thin, deep hole in his neck, stained red and painting his scarf darker.

I glance up to see his killer - the male from District Eight - smirking triumphantly and staring down at his kill. The way his eyes are locked onto the boy... you can tell he's happy. But I don't. I can feel the bile rising in my stomach and throat, the smell of dirt and coppery blood invading my nose.

Luckily, he doesn't see me. He just laughs a little and begins to run in the opposite direction.

He didn't see me. He didn't kill me.

And yet, the vomit rises and flows from my mouth.

"Fay? Fay! Get up, we need to move and being sick is just plain gross!" I hear India's voice calling at me, a rough hand - definitely not India's - hoisting me up from the floor. I blink away the tears and stare at my two allies, both flustered and scared-looking, but generally, generally warm and kind.

They tug me by the arm and we begin running towards the Cornucopia. Everywhere around me, the tributes are fighting or fleeing. I almost feel like I'm just watching rather than participating. Like an outsider watching in, through a glass, the horrors just nothing but colours and moving images. The little girl from District Seven just barely misses the cunning knife of the boy from District Two. The Career girl from District Two just teasingly parrying with the girl from Eleven, using a large knife rather than a sword.

It seems chaotic. Like a game. Like a violent, suicidal, murderous game where people think it's all fun. I note the loss of warmth when Colton finally lets go, a shadow cooling me down underneath the blazing sun. I hear rustling, but I don't know where. Everything just seems so... unreal. My mind is foggy and clouded, like I'm floating between the realms of imagination and reality, except, I have to choose which one and I don't want to. I can't face what is happening all around me. I never could.

"Fay!" another shout.

I feel large hands pushing me, and a pain up my side when I hit the ground. There's a scream and a guttural growl, the sound of metal on metal. I vaguely recall India's voice and footsteps, stomps, just a lot of loud banging against the dirt. Then, another scream, and I fall. I fall from the realm and into reality. I struggle to my feet when a boot collides with my head. It hurts and sends stars to my vision, causing my head to just swim.

Colton carefully dodges the blows dealt by the boy from District Four. Except, Colton isn't invulnerable. The rapier from the boy shoots out and cuts Colton's side, causing him to scream. I look around for India, panic setting in. I see her body laid out on the ground nearby and instantly begin crawling to her, nails ripping up some of the soft, supple dirt. My heart is racing and all the guilt - the guilt for being useless and a burden to her - washes over me like a tidal wave.

I am weighing her down. I knew it would happen. I was a charity case that she took on, and now, she's paying the price.

There's a trickle of blood lolling down her forehead, but when I press two fingers to her neck, there's a pulse. Thank god there's a pulse.

She's alive; but for how much longer?

* * *

**Percival Harlin, District Four Male.**

* * *

Within seconds, I back away, looking at the damage I caused. The boy from Twelve looks stunned, but doesn't fight me anymore. His hand holds the ripped cut in his side that spills blood, whilst his two female allies are laying down in the dirt, next to each other.

But they're not fun.

I shake my head and begin to walk around the smooth edge, letting them escape. Their deaths mean absolutely nothing to me. When I look around the corner, all three have disappeared despite one of the girls being unconscious.

Carnage is all around me and I love it. I love the feeling that bubbles deep inside my chest. I press my back against the cool metal of the Cornucopia and twiddle my thumbs through the scarf. No-one - well, the other tributes, not the Careers - will attempt to come near me. That unusually high score has probably scared them completely away from me. I know what they did, though - that score was to punish me. Make the other tributes fear me, sure, but it was so that the Careers might pick me off much sooner than expected. They wanted me as an open target for stabbing their employee.

I raise the rapier ready and watch out.

Anubis has already made a kill, but he's the only one. The boy from District Five had a good fight - but his ally had long since disappeared - and he just wasn't good enough to take down Anubis. The other death seems to be a girl, but I can't work out which district she's from. Doesn't matter - she clearly wasn't important.

Kit, Fawn and Ransom, though, now they're a good group. They think they're subtle with their alliance within an alliance. But, it's pretty obvious. Kit is rather defensive over Fawn and Ransom's eyes seem to just twinkle when she's nearby. It doesn't bother me, though. Frankly, their alliance might just provide more entertainment for me. I mean, so far, my toy isn't exactly as fun as I thought. I thought if I played with her mind - psychologically abusing her so that she never knew where we stood - that I'd get some great reactions and a priceless annoyance. Instead, though, she's just withdrawing in. Shame. I picked Odette for the sole purpose that I found her remotely interesting to watch self-combust.

The girls from Ten and Twelve near me, Ten's hand grasped around Twelve's wrist.

"Ladies." I smile as Ten draws forth her own sword. I doubt she could use it as well as I could.

She lashes out and jets out her sword, but it narrowly misses me, clashing against the metal skin. Her face falls and I can't help but laugh, jumping forward and bringing my hand across her face. The impact is beautiful as her head whips to the side. Her ally seems to step up, a clenched fist that aims for my jaw. It collides, but I can't help but smile. They're feisty, but plain and boring. I slap Twelve, too, a sickening whip as she falls to the side, swallowed by the tall grass. But, no matter.

Ten comes back for more but I quickly jerk my boot out into her gut, sending her to the floor.

Boring.

Twirling my rapier, I move away, wanting better victims than two girls way in over their heads.

Then I see her. My toy.

She turns around, bow aiming around and a satchel of arrows hooked over her shoulder. Her face flashes briefly into that of a snarl, and I know my game is up. The arrow is quickly loaded as I run for her. With a flick of her wrist, the arrow comes flying for me, metal arrowhead aimed for my forehead. I duck out the way, throwing myself against the Cornucopia. The next arrow comes flying out of nowhere, but I manage to push myself away from the golden skin, the arrow bouncing off it lightly, just where I was seconds ago.

Her aim is pretty impressive. I manage to reach her before she notches the next arrow, my hands coming out to smack the bow from her hands. They fall into the grass and disappear, but Odette doesn't give up. She growls underneath her breath and delivers a punch to my face, causing me to stagger back in surprise. I hear a rattle and can only assume she's trying to find an arrow to maybe stab me with. I un-curl my fingers and release the rapier, hearing it hit the soft mud hidden beneath. I shake away the stars and run at her, catching her by surprising and tackling us both to the floor. She cries as I land on her, but the cry soon becomes a growl once more. Her knee hits my stomach and her nails - perfectly cut and sharp - attack my face and drag downwards. I don't feel anything, but the act is enough to send a flood of anger through my body. I wrap my hands around her thin throat and squeeze as tight as I can, watching her movements and squirming become more sluggish and tired.

When she's more subdued, I grab her harshly and lift her from the grass. She stirs but I know that she won't be fighting back; her eyelids keeping opening and closing, eyes rolling in the back of her head. I gently unwind the scarf from around her neck and adjust it, knotting it at the back. Taking the two ends in either hand, I drag her body towards the Cornucopia. All the chaos and fighting tributes around, and yet, no-one dares come close to me. The Careers don't either, but then again, I have no idea where the others are. Twisting a knot again, I pull hard on the scarf, effectively strangling her with her own clothing. She seems to stir awake now, the threat of missing oxygen encouraging her to fight. But, as she squirms, I only pull tighter, a smile on my lips.

With a final tug, her body begins to go limp. I drag her closer to the Cornucopia shell and, with a hard pull, I slam her head against the skin, a sickening crunch taking her life.

I drop her from my arms, just like the broken toy she is.

The bigger question is, though, I need to replace her. I need another toy.

I look out at the field of tributes, staring at the faces and their movements. I guess it's time to find that new toy then.

* * *

**Serena Pierce, District Ten Female.**

* * *

When I come around, I feel dizzy and sick, but Katey is there, hovering over me, a knife in her hand. Natural instinct takes over and I'm kicking out, hitting her in the shin, but she tells me to stop. I look at the knife and she slides it into the pocket of her shorts.

"We need to move. Now." she states calmly.

This time, her hand finds my wrist, pulling me along. We run through the grass towards the mouth of the Cornucopia, meeting the two little kids from District Three. They freeze when they see us, the boy deeper in and searching for something whilst the girl is idly running her fingers through the loops of her backpack. Their wide eyes are what sends guilt through my body. Can I kill them so harshly? Two little kids who did nothing wrong, and yet, I'm debating about taking their life. Katey doesn't move, so I can only guess she's thinking the same thoughts as me.

In District Ten, I was a little kid who did nothing wrong. Well, not necessarily nothing, but it was easily blown out of proportion. No-one gave me a second chance or debating about shunning me and treating me like a freak. Why should I do the same?

Because I'm a decent human being.

"Go," I say weakly, my mind still reeling from the attack from the Career. I'm surprised that more of the tributes aren't dead. "Quick. Before they find you."

The boy hastily grabs a bunch of supplies, lifting back and kindly throwing a backpack in our direction, a smile of gratitude on his face. They bend down and begin to crawl through the thick grass. I smile, because, well, they're using their age and height to their advantage. By crawling, they can't be seen, really. The main predators - the Careers - they'll be looking for heads to cut off, not small bodies crawling through the dirt.

Katey moves forward and scoops up the backpack, just as I hear footsteps. I spin around as Katey dips into the mouth, coming face-to-face with the boy from District Seven. He bares his teeth in anger and jumps forward, an axe contained in his hand. Katey has no idea he's out here, and as he slices the air just above my head as I duck, I know she won't be coming out to fight; it's probably better if she stays and searches some more.

I have no weapons, and so, I just dodge each of the attacks, my heart racing a little harder with each swipe, my eyes pricking with the coming tears at the thought of dying. Realisation hits me and I side-step the next attack, quickly remembering what the Career boy had done. I bring out my hand fast and it connects with his face, snapping his head to the side. It brings me enough to wrap my fist into his hair - holding him in place - whilst I bring my knee up, connecting with his nose and leaving a sickening crunch.

Katey comes barrelling out of the mouth with a backpack on her shoulder, her sword in one hand and another knife in the other.

"Serena!" she cries, and I hastily push the tribute out of the way to run after her.

I take the sword from her with a smile and we continue running for the rocky knoll. We can make it out of this alive, actually. Our running becomes a more desperate sprint, breaths harsh as the dusty wind seems to whip against our faces like ribbons of hot metal. The knoll comes into view and we ascend awkwardly, both mine and Katey's hands grabbing onto the rocks carefully to pull us up. The desperate need to escape becomes too much and I'm almost digging into the stone to help me further. Finally, we reach the top, and I climb to my feet. Katey is still climbing, but as I look at the field of yellow grass below, stained red in places with scattered figures, I know that no-one is coming from us.

We escaped the bloodbath.

The reality hits me quickly and I smile in relief, bending down to help Katey to her feet. I strain my eyes as Katey gets back her breath, looking out to try and work whose still left down there. Not many tributes, maybe only a few. Some have definitely escaped. Katey taps me on the shoulder and I turn around, my eyes growing wide.

Acacia trees are scattered everywhere, some grouped together whilst some are spaced apart. They provide some shade, but the sun beams down and bakes the ground. Katey's finger suddenly jerks out and I follow the lead. The two little tributes from District Three are running as fast as they can, only their heads visible as they head for the horizon. I also see a flash of red hair running down fast, two older figures running after the blur of orange.

I'm pleased for them. If it wasn't for me and Katey allowing them to leave, then they might not have made it. That sickening reality hits me just as quick. I've only extended my competition to return home. But, I done a good thing by letting them stay alive and escape for now...

Didn't I?

* * *

**Kit Felix, District One Male.**

* * *

I look out at the sea of grass, not surprised to see that most tributes have gone. One of the first to disappear was the burly, weathered guy from District Six, who, seemingly, abandoned his ally quickly. Maybe not so abandoned, since I think everyone saw Anubis stab his sai straight through his throat. It was quite possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. The bloodbath was weak this year, and I think I know why.

Anubis got a kill. Percival was too busy playing around and watching. Me, Fawn and Ransom, well, me and Ransom were easily taken aside by the Six guy, whilst Fawn was too slow. Minerva fought some people - from what I saw - but no kills, and Odette was just aiming around and shooting arrows wildly. Our Career pack well and truly screwed this up.

And yet, I smirk, because deep down, I know it's better than we look like failures. If it is all of us, Anubis and Minerva have no right to single me out, or Fawn and Ransom, for that matter. It was everyone's fault.

A few tributes are left, though, and they might be willing to redeem themselves. I know that I'm not bothering. For one thing, I don't want to give Anubis or Minerva the satisfaction. Secondly, well, the pain is too much and I need to rest. The throbbing sensation rips up and down the joints in my arms and legs, making my vision blurry from where it just hurts so damn much. I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead and the sun, well, that doesn't make anything better, causing the scenery to dance and sway as I struggle to focus.

"Kit?" I hear a voice, snapping out of the trance. I force a smile and wipe my forehead, letting out a breath to let them believe it's just too hot for me, even though it's rather tepid. "They've caught someone."

I follow the voice - which sounds like Fawn - and, when I lose track, I feel her hand gently grab mine and tug me along. I stumble to get straight and Fawn looks around worryingly, soft eyes and a thin smile. We round the Cornucopia and I hear a high-pitched squeal. It shocks me down to the core and reminds me that everyone has to die eventually, including Fawn. Just... just not yet. The sight before me isn't surprising.

The Careers - well, Anubis, Minerva and Ransom - are in a circle, a mass of tanned clothing in the middle. I can't see Minerva or Anubis' face, but Ransom looks over, features considerably pale and eyes alarmed. The scream happens again and Anubis laughs, jolting out his foot. It collides with the person and they cry again, a mixture of sobbing before a howl. It's a female for sure, but who? We get closer and closer, our footsteps alerting Anubis who leans out the circle and smiles.

"Oh look, we have more spectators. Be careful guys, this one is feisty. Especially you Fawn. I'd hate for you to break a nail, or possibly a bone." Anubis laughs wickedly, kicking the figure once more. Another cry and Ransom goes pale once more. For a moment, it seems like a trap, but there's no Odette - whom I haven't seen in ages - and it's clear that Percival has gone rogue. It could be Odette, actually, as a way to lure us in. Ransom could have even sold us out for the reward of keeping his life. My mind swirls as we near, the figure more clear. Light hair and small features. The girl from District Nine. Anubis kicks her again and she cries, Minerva chuckling in amusement. "See what I mean? This one wasn't fast enough."

"She got abandoned. It's okay, sweetheart, you were never going to live that long anyway. At least your friends have a better chance." Minerva joins in.

My eyes narrow out of disgust. "What happened?"

"They were carrying their unconscious ally, hobbling away to safety. We jumped them and stole her. The boy - the little rat from Twelve - he was about to fight to save her, but I guess there was no point. They abandoned her," Anubis then replies, almost like him and Minerva are finishing off each other's sentences. "Now, who would like to kill her? Lets not say Fawn - I'd hate for her to get too dirty."

"Me please." Minerva chirps.

Anubis holds out his hand and the girl from Nine screams, hands clutching her ears as Minerva accepts a knife from our great leader. Tears streak her reddened face and she screams and cries, a mixture that takes her breath away at times as Minerva lowers herself to the ground. "This'll be fast."

The girl kicks out but Anubis slams his boot down on her wrist, pinning her there under his weight. With a swift motion, Minerva plunges the dagger straight into the girl's heart. She takes a final breath before going limp, tears leaking down her face. It's over; Minerva now has a kill on her list. I still don't know where Odette is, though, but no-one actually seems to care or even ask about her. I guess Odette really was the one that was forgotten most of the time - not in the firing line like me, Fawn and Ransom, not sinister and perfect like Percival and not arrogant and proud like Anubis and Minerva. It's kinda sad, but I never really liked her all that much.

Minerva gets up and gruffly wipes the bloody dagger on Ransom's trousered leg. "Sorry, darling, but I'm not about to wipe it on me. Peasant blood and all that."

Anubis laughs, looking straight at me. I squeeze onto Fawn's hand tighter and briefly glance at Ransom, not knowing whether this is it or not. "Are you ready to leave, my fellow allies?"

There's something in his words that unsettle me, and yet, I nod along. If Anubis is going to play coy, then so will I. It's a waiting game and I'm patient enough.

* * *

**Ewan Cole, District Seven Male.**

* * *

She's dead.

That was the first thought that registered in my mind when we ran across the grass. I watched her try her hardest, but the boy from Nine was quick. His aim was a lot better than I expected and she killed her so swiftly. Me and Ezra weren't fast enough. We didn't make it. The hollowness in my chest knows that I failed her. And, now, I'm trapped in an alliance that I never wanted to be with in the first place. Justice seems to be leading us somewhere - the strange little girl acting rather odd since Challis' demise. Ezra is acting even weird, sobbing so openly and clearly shaken up. I'm upset, but crying on television is an embarrassment.

Justice continues to walk through the thick grass, her head and shoulders being the only thing you can see, the rest hidden by the yellow sea.

"Where are you going?" I call out angrily, suddenly regretting my voice and turning to the side, noticing no other tributes. "Well?"

She doesn't respond, but she does stop. Ezra is so absorbed in his mind, he almost crashes into her back. She looks around carefully and clicks her tongue. I'm starting to get the feeling that Justice knows more than she is actually letting on. She's, what, fifteen? One year older than Laurel and yet she's more independent. Justice needed us, according to Challis, but I just don't buy it anymore. Then again, it could be the bitter resentment of being in this alliance when I don't actually want to be.

"Ezra, are you seriously just going to keep following her?" I say out loud, not really caring about Justice at the moment.

Ezra just shrugs his shoulders and looks down to the floor, defeat in his eyes.

Maybe the guilt is suddenly getting to him too.

"This way." Justice says quietly and begins walk again, her red mane bobbing up and down with each step.

For some reason, I follow, but my mind drifts to Laurel instead. I wonder if she escaped? The last I saw of her, she was running around pretty fast, using her agility and size to be but a blur. If you counted on all that, you could guess that she managed to get in and out before the fighting might've begun. But, then again, I saw the guy from District Two attempting to take her life. Anger bubbles inside of me. Not to mention me being taken out by the girl from District Ten; her punch was pretty wicked, one of the best, actually, and I've been hit by a ton of girls over the years.

Justice stops again and like on replay, Ezra almost slams into her. She playfully skips towards a bush containing a bunch of berries, plucking a few. Then, she continues in, hidden by the growth as she hums quietly. I don't like this arena. It's so... open. The bloodbath is contained in a pit, sure, but then there's miles of tall grass and scattered trees, making it easy to be detected. But the further you go in and around, the better chance you have of finding places to hide and camp.

She returns instantly, zipping up her backpack.

"What'd you get?" I ask accusingly.

"Some food," she replies, innocence in her voice. "I was thi-"

Her voice is toppled over by a growl, though, and I instantly freeze. Ezra, too, managed to snap back into focus at the horrid sound. Justice's face pales and she walks towards us slow, trembling with each step. We wait, the bushes that Justice was in just moments ago now rustling heavily.

A Mutt this early on?

My thoughts are right when a beast emerges, back pretty high and head sniffing the air. I stare at it for a moment, since, well, it doesn't look like one creature really, except it does. It's confusing. It cocks it's head at us, eyes snapping back and forth at us hungrily. The mouth peels apart, teeth bared and layered, deadly. The coat of it's fur is a tanned orange - like our suits - whilst it's eyes are blood red. I close my eyes and flash to that brief moment I was staring at that pointless booklet.

A lion, wasn't it? No, because there isn't a mane.

A coyote. It's a coyote.

I look back and yes, I'm right, eyes staring at us as it's large paws begin to pad the ground, coming closer. I hear Justice whimper. My hand twitches for the axe hooked onto the backpack over my shoulder. But, the teeth open slowly, a forked, blue tongue shooting outwards. Justice screams and I feel my heart racing, throwing myself to the floor. I hear a sickening squelch, my hands automatically patting my body. But, as I turn around, I follow the slimy trail that's stabbed straight through Ezra's chest. The tongue rolls around before whipping back into the creature's mouth, a hole left in Ezra's stomach. My own mouth has fallen open, the shock clear in mine and Justice's eyes. Ezra wobbles on his feet - blood pooling his clothes and running down his chest, a thin trail leaving his bloodied lips - before he falls, dead instantly.

But it isn't over.

Justice screams again and the creature begins to stalk forward, teeth bared and eyes bright, ready to find another victim.

* * *

**Stop And Stare by One Republic.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Challis Glenley, District Eight.**

******Stellan Kingsley, District Five.**

******Odette Leith, District Four.**

******Fay Amaris, District Nine.**

******Ezra Zinnia, District Ten.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**My main apologises go out to - you are with me, happygoluckyclover and DramaticGleek. You guys kept reviewing, I know that, but I didn't know where to take your tributes in all honesty. Fay was precious, but an underdog. Ezra was sweet, but not a fighter. Odette was angry, but lost in the background. I still loved them all, and I hope you stay with the story.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Your thoughts on the surviving tributes and those who died?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**My chapters will be shorter here than in the Capitol. Six POV's a chapter means less writing overall. But, I think this was good enough.**

**Sorry for the delay... I did mention that this would be hard, and it was. I had no clue who to kill so I literally went with who I haven't got a storyline for. I hope everyone understands that.**

**This chapter wasn't my best either, and I apologise. The bloodbath is my favourite in mind, but it becomes weaker in writing because I try to keep it realistic and fast-paced. Now it's calmed down, so the writing quality will be better next chapter. Our tributes will slowly break or lose control and our Mutts will start making an appearance.**

**My answer for a small bloodbath was because our Careers generally cannot work together. Kit said that himself. Our smaller, younger tributes survived because the grass can provide camouflage for them! It's all realistic and no-one should say otherwise -_-**

**Also, the poll results have been put on my profile!**

**A huge congratulations to Terris, Laurel and Kit, for getting the joint most votes!**


	9. Overrated

**Overrated.**

_Worn out and faded, the weaknesses start to show._

* * *

**Justice Florence, District Six Female.**

* * *

I don't know why I'm screaming, but I know my heart is racing faster than I expected. Ezra's death didn't affect me and neither did Challis'. Call me cold-hearted, but neither of them really affected my life. I wanted to be a part of this alliance to study them. I wanted to learn everything about them. Sadly, my subjects, so to speak, happened to be rather easy to figure out and not as fun as I predicted.

My eyes refuse to look anywhere else except Ezra's gruesome demise and the Mutt, eyes flared and snout lips pulled back to reveal razor teeth, a hidden blue tongue that managed to whip Ezra into an instant death. I'd be lying if I didn't find them completely remarkable.

Ewan carefully clips the throwing axe from his belt, watching the animal with careful eyes. I know I'm shaking - more like vibrating - but I can't help but feel a little excited on the inside. Will Ewan unravel as a person and do something worthy? I have no idea, but the Mutt continues to move forward.

"Justice... start walking backwards..." Ewan commands in a hushed whisper.

But I don't want to. I want to watch the animal and it's magnificent tongue once more. I want... I want to watch it whip the skin off something or rather someone else.

"For god sake Justice, do what I said..." Ewan grumbles again, his foot stepping backwards in a slow fashion. "... stop making this hard."

"I'm not." I reply evenly.

The Mutt tilts it's head almost playfully, large paws padding the ground as it continues to shorten the distance between us. I instinctively tug on the backpack over my shoulders, knowing my prize possessions are in there, zipped away tightly. I take a swift glance at Ezra's form, a large hole that penetrates all the way through so much that, carefully, a few stalks of yellow grass poke through his body, like worms crawling out of his stomach. The idea is both gruesome and yet fascinating. The animal growls and I look to Ewan, almost by my side, his eyes never leaving the animal that has decided on playing a game with us, stalking us, treating us like prey.

Five cannons quickly shake the ground, one after the other, but it sets off a pattern.

The animal leaps.

"Run!" Ewan shouts, and for a brief moment, I wonder why he seems to care about my life whatsoever.

But instead, I'm spinning around and running, Ewan's footsteps mirroring mine and the large paws of the animal stomping on the ground, coupled with the sounds of his teeth and tongue lashing out, a wet, slapping sound. I hear the spit that I heard when Ezra was killed, and instantly throw myself into the long grass. Ewan cries, his boot next to my eyes. But, in that instant, his boot flies from the ground as the animal tackles him. I push myself up, heart racing hard and hammering against my chest, threatening to break out, only to see the sight of Ewan struggling beneath the chomping jaws of the beast.

Without even thinking, I run forward, collecting the axe that flew from Ewan's hand when he got tackled. It shakes in my hand violently. I've never killed anyone before... anything, for that matter. All the cuts I did were to already dead bodies.

I raise the item high, ready to strike, but it turns around and bats me away with it's head. Ewan uses the distraction to his advantage and, when I land on the floor hard, taking away my breath, I know Ewan has used it wisely. The animal begins to whimper and I smile. I flex my fingers, because I knew to drop the axe near Ewan's hand, his stronger, taller frame being able to actually do damage. I slide the blades of grass from my view. Ewan's jaw is clenched, gritted, his hand forcing the axe further and further through the neck of the animal.

He looks almost sick. Ewan is unravelling. His pale skin turns red, the crimson blood pooling on the ground. With a flick of his wrist, the animal crumples, lifeless.

Ewan brutally kicks the animal. "An eye for an eye, you bastard."

I slowly pick myself up, willing away the smile on my face. "Thank you Ewan."

"Don't mention it," he shrugs, but then I notice the deep gash on his upper arm, taking away some of his shirt. It looks huge - black and red, bleeding heavily. He notices me eyeing it and looks down at his injury. "Huh."

But his words are coupled with his body wobbling, falling to the floor. I jog over, a mixture of disappointment and thrill in my body. I bend over and, instantly, sweat is pouring from Ewan's face, but he doesn't looked pained.

"The adrenaline needs to wear off. Then the pain will happen," I say carefully and slowly, my father's knowledge of how some people die reaching my ears. He said that sometimes, adrenaline masks pain, but only briefly. Ewan's eyes flutter open and close, his fingers curling through the blade of grass in order to stay together. "You'll be okay, Ewan, you just... you just... need sleep."

I run my hand gently over his flushed cheek and through the damp, blonde strands that are pressed against his forehead. His eyes flutter closed and I smile, looking around for my abandoned backpack. I spot it just a few metres away, hidden in the grass.

Ewan got better; more interesting.

I guess he is worth studying after all.

* * *

**Terris Avar, District Three Male.**

* * *

"Where are we heading?" I ask, my arms and legs physically hurting. Nova, on the other hand, seems to skip freely through the grass. "Nova!"

"Don't ruin the moment Terrorist," Nova shouts back, skipping further in front as my legs tire. "We need to find it."

"Find what? Nova, I have no idea what you're on about, and you're doing that thing again. You know, where you keep secrets from me?"

She stops almost instantly, turning around, blonde pigtails swinging carelessly. She moves closer and sighs, taking the backpack from my shoulder. For some reason, I should be against that. I mean, that bag contains all the things I need in order to make portable explosions. All the gadgets, batteries, powder and wires. I have enough to make quite a few miniature bombs.

"There you go," she says evenly, swinging the backpack over her shoulder. "Now you can stop complaining and just keep walking. We need to find the river."

I pause for a moment and she eyes me curiously, probably matching my own look. "How do you know there's a river?"

She moves her finger up to tap the side of her nose but stops when I glare. "Okay okay. Remember when I said that I got a lot of knowledge from the girl from District Nine?"

I try to think back to that moment. It was in training, first day, I believe. She was busy talking to the fragile looking one. I think, I think they were over by the plants section? I nod anyway and Nova beams.

"Well, she told me some interesting stuff actually. See the ground?"

"Obviously. I mean, it is beneath us and everything," I say teasingly, but still looking down anyway, kicking away the blades of grass to see the moist dirt underneath. I even move some with my hands, tips of the grass just reaching my shoulders. It wasn't moist back up the hill, was it? "And what do you mean by it?"

"She said that if the dirt becomes moist, it means you're near a river or a lake. I'm only guessing a river because this place, it seems to reminds me of something I read in a text book once," Nova beams again, proudness in her voice. "And, she also helped me identify some plants. She was a strange girl, all jittery and scared, but she seemed okay when we spoke. She taught me about this plant that produces hallucinations, pain and even death, and it's always located by a water source."

I almost feel to laugh. Nova... she's a lot smarter than you would imagine from her age and looks. She looks too sweet and innocent, and yet, she learned survival skills in but two days. Then again, I wonder if people thought the same of me? I probably look sweet and innocent, and yet, I can create explosions and bombs, not to mention my love of fireworks and fire in general. I guess me and Nova are the reason why people say that you should never judge a book of it's cover.

"Ah," I say, raising my finger. "How do you know that we are heading in the right direction? The river could be located anywhere near here."

She glares instantly and a light laugh bubbles from my throat. "I know it's this direction. Trust me. Plus, you have to follow, because I have your precious backpack that almost got us killed in the bloodbath."

My eyes widen with alarm because yes, yes, Nova does have my items now, and by the look on her face and the way she seems to be protecting the backpack from my soon-to-be stretched out hands, she knows I'm putty in her hands. I sigh in defeat and Nova laughs loudly.

"See. You wouldn't have put our lives at risk if this wasn't important."

"I didn't technically put our lives in risk," I say innocently, because, well, I wouldn't do that, not ever. "And the girls from Ten and Twelve were genuinely nice for letting us go. They didn't have to. Either one of them could have killed us."

"Very true," Nova says softly. "It was really kind of them."

An uncomfortable silence settles over us and, for the first time, I think that reality has slammed into Nova. Her eyes look watery and her hands curl in defensively. If it wasn't the girls - if it was someone else turning that corner - we could have been killed. We could be dead right now. Just another cannon and a face in the sky. My chest suddenly feels hollow and I take a shaky breath, looking back up at her.

"But they didn't. And no-one is around us now. Come on, show me the wonders of your plants and river." I say sweetly and Nova nods, turning around and walking quietly.

Maybe she's only realised that eventually I'll have to die in order for her to go home? I've always known that; I just don't want to face it just yet.

I continue to follow her anyway, my eyes watching my backpack over her shoulder warily. Eventually, Nova cheers up, skipping once more and I run, the energy and everything getting to me and making me smile. I start laughing as we run faster and faster, speeding through the grass. Nova stops, though, and I almost slam into her back.

"Nova, what i-"

My question is answered though. My mouth falls open as the large animal walks past us lazily. It slowly turns it's head in our direction, but does nothing, munching slowly on leaves that fall from it's large mouth, tusks poking forward.

"Wow." Nova gasps.

"I guess we're not the only people imprisoned here then." I smile, wondering why the animal or Mutt, most likely, doesn't want to hurt us? I've never seen animal before. District Three is more about technology and concrete jungle rather than nature. Animals like these are only from our wildest of dreams and, apparently, the twisted dreams of the Gamemakers.

It doesn't matter. Nova laughs and we begin to follow it, joining the others that follow slowly, like we're part of the herd.

Maybe they'll lead us to water more trustingly than Nova's instincts?

* * *

**Theon Sykes, District Six Male.**

* * *

I can't fight the betrayal that lies deep within my stomach no matter how far I run. I pump my arms and legs, powering through the grass that gets shorter and shorter, heading for the horizon that seems to get further and further away from him. I knew this was the price, yet I didn't expect to feel like this. Stellan died, and I wasn't even there. It was his idea, to meet up after the bloodbath to not attract attention to ourselves, and I did that. I attacked Careers to make sure we had items and weapons. I... I came back to the knoll, only to find his body laying swallowed by the grass.

But no.

I slowly stop running, the adrenaline and guilt and pain riding through my body. I struggle to breathe, taking a seat and scrubbing my hands over my face constantly.

I know that Stellan's death is tragic - my own ally - but it doesn't matter. I want to go home to my children, don't I? Of course I do. Then, technically, Stellan's death only means a greater chance at me leaving. That's why I feel so terrible; because Stellan is dead and I actually feel slightly glad about it. We would have had to split up eventually, and I might have had to kill him. This... it makes it easier.

When I've brought back enough strength, I get up and continue to walk, heading for the horizon once more. The further from the bloodbath, the better it'll be. The arena has to end somewhere, and I'll find it if I have to. Keep walking and allow the others to kill and fight and die, making my chances higher whilst keeping my conscience clean. But, as I keep walking, my mind drifts to Justice. I wonder how she's doing? I don't remember seeing her fall. In fact, I don't remember her there whatsoever. It doesn't matter. She's just enough death I wish to happen, sadly.

I hear the noise of rustling from a nearby bush and freeze, fingers twitching for the mace connected to the backpack on my shoulder.

I see a small bundle of fur begin to walk out and I can't help but smile softly. The animal can't be no more than a baby, eyes bright and teeth pulled back in what could be seen as a smile. It looks so young and I close my eyes, thinking back to what Stellan taught me about some of the animals in the book. It's a lion cub, I believe. I open my eyes and watch it carefully come closer, those eyes just oozing innocence.

But no Mutt is ever innocent.

It snarls, running forward as fast as it can. The closer it gets, the more I realise that the little lion cub is indeed actually about the height of my knees. I panic and stagger back, unclasping the mace and swinging it forward. The spikes collide with the lion cub's skull and it flings across the grass, whimpering as it lies bleeding to dead. It takes a while, but the realisation hits me. It was only a baby animal. A child, with a mother out there no doubt.

I just... I killed someone's child, even though it was an animal.

I've officially entered the food chain.

I'm almost sick to my stomach and can't bear to go over and see what happened to it. The faint sounds of his whimper hits my ears though, and I wince with each step I take as I walk away, still heading for my horizon. I killed a helpless - well, not so helpless - animal, and now, his mother is probably ready to hunt me down. Will the parents of the tributes be doing the same, if I kill their child? I can't even begin to think about their hollow eyes and broken hearts. Everyone no doubt saw me kill that animal. The Capitol, the districts... my heart stops. What if Robin or Keane saw?

I pray that Savannah is keeping them away from the television set in our run-down little house. They might not understand, but I can't bear the idea that, even at their ages, they watched me kill something, particularly a young animal.

But this is the Hunger Games, too. Nobody walks away alive with clean hands. Everyone ends up tainted and broken in one form or another. The Careers... they act strong, but they're human, naive, and their victory would also be clouded with misery and survivor's guilt.

"Six?"

I stop and turn around, surprised that I'm not scared. A voice? Belonging to whom? She slowly walks out of the bushes, cuts and scratches littering her face.

"Eleven?"

She smiles softly. "I saw what happened... to your ally, I mean."

I nod, not really knowing how to respond and yet, my heart is knowing what she's going to ask. I can't will myself along. If she's going to ask what I think she'll ask, I should say no. I had an ally, begrudgingly, and he's already dead. My life got a little bit easier. Taking another ally would be like taking one step forward and then five steps back. When I don't reply, she steps forward, hands raised. I notice the scythe, though, curled in one of the raised hands.

"I don't want to be alone, surprisingly, and well, I did look for Bracken but I can't find him. I was hoping that maybe you could be my ally, for safety sake?"

"Why?" I ask, tilting my head at her.

"I... there's these weird animals. These cuts are from some thin-legged, pink bird in a pond over there," she says, pointing in the direction of the bushes. "I can take you there, for water purposes. Maybe even get some food, if you know how to hunt?"

"Flamingos," I reply dully, Stellan's words clearly thumping against my brain. "Those birds... they're called flamingos."

"Is that a yes?" her smile brightens a little, but everything in my body is saying no, no, don't do it. I can't, not again, not when I know I can handle this on my own. But she clearly can't. She's obviously not so used to this, and the hero side of my mind is arguing with the more logical side of my mind. "Well?"

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But only for a little while." I caution, as if saying it will remind the logical part of my mind that there is always safety in numbers.

But Stellan didn't think that; and he's dead because of it.

Maybe logic is something you have to ignore in order to commit such primal acts.

* * *

**Colton Dacanay, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

I lay India down carefully, her eyelids still glued shut, the gash on her forehead still trickling blood. She hasn't woke up. She won't even know of me abandoning Fay. I feel sick to my stomach and flop down next to her, the leaves of the acacia tree providing us with shade. India and Fay, they were a team. India looked after Fay and Fay depended on India. I came along, entered their alliance, and when India was down, I left Fay.

But I didn't.

It'll look like that - but I didn't just abandon her. Fay knew that there was no use in me and Fay trying to take on the Careers, all the while trying to ensure that India doesn't get hurt either. She mimed to me across the gap once they were coming, hard and fast, feet pounding against the ground. She told me to run. For a brief moment in knowing Fay, she was calm and collected. She... she was lucid, telling me to run and take India with me for her safety. Tears pepper my eyes and I gulp thickly, emotions taking control.

I glance over at India's unconscious form, pressing two fingers to her neck.

She's still breathing.

I slouch against the trunk, breathing through pressed lips.

It went completely wrong.

I stare out at the scenery, amazed by the sights. We never, ever had anything like this back in District Twelve. Maybe that's why it seems to intense; a new place that seems to be what dreams are made of. Trees are scattered everywhere and, from what I can see, the grass gets a bit shorter away from the pit that looks more and more like a crater from the horizon. There's so many spaces to hide and bury yourself, but also so many places where you're open and vulnerable. I'm surprised no-one tried to come after me and India. We were the last ones to leave the bloodbath, but with me too busy carrying an unconscious girl, we must have been easy targets. It could have been pity that saved us.

I hear the sound of a bird twittering and look up, a colourful bird with feathers like the rainbow staring down. I blink, my heart speeding up... there are never any normal animals in the Hunger Games. A Mutt? I remember back during the Quarter Quell when they had crows, as large as small children, blood eyes and talons that ripped people to shreds. The girl from my district was trapped and attacked by some.

But the bird seems friendly, twitching it's feathers as it floats down another branch, before flying out and landing on the blades of grass just a few metres in front.

It's so small - smaller than my hand - and it almost looks like a baby. It seems playful with the way it's eyes are sparked up.

"Come here," I smile wearily, rubbing my fingers together to coerce it. "Come on little birdie, I won't hurt you, as long as you don't plan on ripping my eyes out."

The bird tilts it's head again. Suddenly, the ground seems to move and the bird flies up, the mouth of a snake chasing it. My heart leaps from my chest and I scream, the teeth encasing the bird as the snake falls back in the grass. I panic, straining my ears to hear the audible hiss and slither as it comes closer. I tuck in my legs, grabbing onto India's unconscious body parts and pulling them in. Whipping my head around, I know that deep down, I'm begging to find a weapon. I can feel my heart thudding against my ribcage and my head is swimming.

The snake's head peeks out through the grass and I freeze, his eyes rather... human. It seems to be watching me curiously, but for some reason, it doesn't attack. It just waits and watches.

I can literally feel my entire body giving up. Well, not so much giving up, but like I'm floating, never being able to touch something or set my feet on the ground. Like limbo, I guess, the snake waiting for me to make a move and yet I can't, pulled between two options. The sickest thing is? If I run, I can survive, and it'll eat India. That's the worst thought riding through my head. But I didn't save her for nothing. Fay didn't die so that I would give up on her.

And that's when India begins to stir.

My eyes snap in her direction, and the snake takes his chance. I hear a spitting noise and snap my eyes back, the snake reeling back as it prepares to launch forward. It leaps swiftly and I scream, throwing myself to the floor as it bites the bark above me. India stirs again and I push her over rather brutally, hoping the attack might bring her around.

It does.

"C-Colton?" she murmurs.

"India! Run!" I scream, wrapping my hand around the tail of the snake, attempting to twist.

India struggles to her feet, tripping over as she scrambles at the ground. The snake whips around and spits once more, only this time, my eyes are almost directly against his. I feel something wet hit my eyes and I scream, the pain burning through so immensely. My grip becomes tighter and the snake suddenly goes limp in my hands. But... but everything has gone weird. My head is beginning to spin and everything feels as if it has multiplied. A gentle hand touches my shoulder and, slowly, beings to peel my fingers from the snake.

India's form is there, but everything is distorted.

"You eyes are suddenly really pretty," she says weakly. "C-Colton, I don't feel too good."

But neither do I.

The blackness begins to pull me in but I fight it, clawing at the ground in an attempt to keep reality normal. I hear a slump, which I guess as India falling back down. It's too late for me though. Everything goes completely still and I'm just... so... tired...

* * *

**Minerva Li, District Two Female.**

* * *

This is dull. Absolutely, positively dull.

"You said that out loud Minerva." Anubis smirks.

"Oh, did I? Well, the truth sometimes hurts, sweetheart."

Me and Anubis stay side-by-side, almost like comrades. I don't fully trust him, but I prefer his company compared to Fawn or Kit. Random, oh, I mean Ransom, he's always been okay. I've pitied him more than anything. Me and Anubis, we'll go far, but I'd like it if Ransom was the last Career before us to die. You know, Percival, Fawn and Kit falling first, if that makes sense. Ransom has always been weird, but I can't say that the Training Centre in District Two will be too pleased if I killed Ransom. I'll go home Victor and they'll probably skin me alive. The main rule of our training is that, never help another Career, but never kill your district partner.

I can't see Amity or Ajax being too pleased when I return. I mean, Maverick and Tarzana might be our mentors, but I learned everything from Amity and Ajax.

Up front of us, though, the little in-alliance has stayed together, all in a line with Fawn barricaded in the middle of them. She has both of those boys wrapped around her old lady fragile finger. Are they both complete idiots or stunned by the obvious lust? I have no idea. I don't know how she's managing to do it, but she is, and that makes me more mad knowing that Fawn basically has bodyguards. Not much of ones, but they're always there, by her side. They don't split. When we kidnapped the girl from District Nine - that peasant - Ransom and Fawn were together. We were going to take out her allies, but Fawn suggested she find Kit first. Anubis allowed it, but he's not an idiot, he knows too that Fawn is playing them both to look out for her.

"Say, Minerva, wanna have a little guess as to what happened to Percy?"

"Not really," I respond coldly. "I don't particularly care for the little fisherman that much. His games that he plays tend to grate on me. Though, I can say it was obvious he killed Odette."

"How so?"

"He strangled her. I mean, that's a control thing, and Percival is rather... for a lack of better term... a psychopath."

"Nice insight."

"Glad to oblige, hon," I smirk, watching as Fawn stumbles, only for both of them to help her back up. "She's getting on my nerves too."

"Just give it some time. I'm sure she'll fall over and snap in two like the little twig that she is." Anubis laughs darkly.

"Maybe I'll push her."

"How evil."

"What can I say? I don't particularly "like" people in general. The human population has a habit of being annoying," I roll my eyes, looking at Anubis and seeing him stare carefully. "I only respect those that are either like me, better than me - but that's a rare chance - or people that I might possibly look up to. You're okay, Anubis, you make the short list of people that are like me."

"Not better?" he teases.

"Never," I look up at the sun beating down on us. "You might be dehydrated."

"What makes you think that?" Anubis scoffs, nudging me with his arm.

"Because you're talking complete and utter crap; one of the first signs of losing your mind." I smirk, hearing Anubis laugh again.

We continue to walk down a straight line. Anubis has "commanded" that we find water and, for some reason, the fools upfront are leading us straight. I guess it makes sense. Keeping walking straight and you must hit water eventually, but with the animals that we've been seeing all around, I guess there must be enough water for them all. Maybe a river or two. An oasis, possibly? Either way, I get what they mean and I understand Anubis too; my tongue is thick where I'm so dry. Annoyingly, the backpacks containing food and water are on the shoulders of Ransom and Kit. Anubis' exact words were, "come on mules, carry our stuff then" and the poor boys followed through, not realising Anubis' condescending attitude.

"Can't you gallop any faster?" Anubis teases, looking at me for encouragement. I smirk and he laughs. "Actually, whoa! We need some water and food."

They stop instantly, turning around. Kit gives us a death glare and I can't help but smirk. Fawn looks uneasy but she whispers something into Kit's ear, whilst Ransom fumbles around with his backpack.

"Open it faster, come on," Anubis encourages, but I tilt my head. Something isn't right here... Ransom opens the pack and Anubis looks instead. "Why are our rations cut in half?"

He shrugs his shoulders but Anubis doesn't buy it. Ransom looks rather guilty, if I do say so.

"Anubis, let's leave it," I suggest. "I'm sure if Fawn sniffs hard enough, she might be able to locate food or water."

Anubis grumbles but moves away, and Ransom awkwardly zips up the bag. Fawn and Kit give him a puzzled look but he continues walking, holding the straps close to his back. Everyone begins to follow again, but I turn around, the faint shine of a water canister laying in the dirt. He's ridding us of our supplies, but for what purpose?

* * *

**Bracken Mathis, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

I crawl across the floor, weaving in and out of the grass, picking up the forgotten canister. I say forgotten, but I saw the boy from District Two drop it on purpose. He slipped it from his backpack and then out of his hand, swallowed by the blades of yellow grass. I pick it up carefully and tilt it, smiling when I realise that it's full of water. I pop up the lid and take a heavy swig, swallowing as much as I can.

Maybe I should follow them? Set some traps and watch them swing from the trees like the apes that they are.

Of course, I doubt all the Careers are truly bad. The pair from District One don't seem completely evil, whilst that boy... his actions of dropping this bottle like breadcrumbs, it's not exactly all murderous and I'm-going-to-kill-you like really. It's rather passive.

I climb up onto my feet once I see their heads slowly mould into some brushes and grass further down. I blink a few times, my eyes needing to adjust to the light, before looking up at the blazing sun. It doesn't even look like it's getting darker. The sun is still bright and yellow, waves of heat rolling down and cooking the ground. I really, really want to just take my shirt off. I mean, god, that parrot freaked when she saw me half-naked, even though she wasn't looking - but the dirty woman turned around anyway - but I wonder if everyone is like that? Will they appreciate their "wild boy"?

Oh, who cares.

I tug at the hem of my shirt and begin to pull when realisation hits me.

If I'm their token wild child, so to speak, being naked is making me more of a show.

I fumble around in my backpack and produce a short dagger. I flip it over in my hand before smiling, taking the blade to the middle of my short. With a short swipe, I rip the thread, exposing my chest through the slot of ripped fabric. The dusty wind hits my chest and cools me down instantly and, with the rest of the water bottle, I pour it over my head and shake my head, the image no doubt looking like a dog after he got wet.

I tuck the empty canister in my backpack and pull forth some rope, heading for the nearest acacia tree. I carefully entwine the rope around the branch, making a loop and then setting it on the ground. After some time, I've produced the perfect little trap, kicking some fallen leaves and moving the grass around so that it covers the stepping point. Huh. I guess that blonde idiot at the trap-making station was useful for something. With this trap, I can catch whatever comes along. An animal, perhaps, which I can cook for food. Maybe even a tribute, who I can leave dangling there at the peril of another tribute who passes him and kills him. So many possibilities.

Pulling the scarf more over my mouth, I snuggle down into some bushes nearby and wait, eyes boring at the trap so carefully hidden.

At some point, my eyes drift shut.

I don't dream about anything, really, but one image burns my mind. It's of me, talking to Bay when he came to see me, the way his eyes were wide and accusing at me being reaped, like it was my fault. We were quiet for a while until he finally cracked, coming over and wrapping me in what he liked to call his "bro-hug", specifically between him and me. He handed me my token, a bracelet, but only after I told him my plan. My plan to die, no matter what. Whether I die by someone else's hands or my own, I don't plan on coming back. The Capitol, the way of life, District Eleven in particular... it's far too tyrannical now. It's like they are to trying to quell me, keep me in check, suffocate me and I can't breathe, struggling for air and clawing at their vice grip-

My eyes snap open when I hear the sound of my trap catching the first victim, a childish squeal following. I look out at the little girl from District Seven, bouncing up and down, but not surprisingly scared. She's laughing? The rope causes her body to spring still, her small pigtails whipping into her face, but she's giggling, face red from the rush of blood and obvious enjoyment.

"You know, that trap that I just set, it's not suppose to be a toy you enjoy," I frown, standing up and out of the bushes. She spins around immediately and the giggling stops, the colour in her face fading away strongly. "It's suppose to catch and allow me to kill, not something you should laugh about."

She crosses her arms defiantly and looks at me straight, her body completely upside down. I want to laugh, actually, but I know that the situation would be seen as bullying.

"This wasn't very nice. This was a dirty trick." she scolds me and I'm taken aback by her apparent obliviousness to the fact that I just told her I'm using it to kill, not produce laughter.

"Not necessarily dirty when you're in an arena to kill," I say slowly, raising an eyebrow. "You should be scared technically."

"Why should I be scared?" she asks back, her voice suddenly fiery. "You should be scared technically."

I like this girl. I step forward, producing my knife. I instantly see her flinch and smirk, raising the knife and watching her eyelids squeeze shut in apparent fright.

But I won't kill her. I swipe the knife across the rope and she falls instantly, a groan coming from her mouth as she slams into the floor. She's quick to her feet, eyes ablaze and ready to fight me clearly. I raise my hands defensively and smile.

"You can go. I like you, little girl, so I have no plans on killing you," I say honestly, watching her eyes bore into mine. "Think of it as a learning curve. Watch the ground more often."

She doesn't say anything but she spins around, scooping up the backpack - that she must have dropped - hidden in the grass. She mumbles something I can't quite catch as she runs away, pigtails and backpack bouncing with each of her speedy steps.

The anthem catches me off-guard and I look up at the bright sky, the seal appearing and disappearing within seconds. The first face is the female Career from District Four - it's okay, one less monster for the others to worry about. Following her is the boy from District Five, another forgettable face. The girl from District Eight is after, but again, I can't see her death making a huge impact - maybe on that group of district rejects, but not anyone else. The girl from District Nine and the boy from District Ten are straight after the other, but again, not faces I remember. She was odd and he was... strange. More rejects really.

The faces disappear and I know it's over. Five bloodbaths? Weak. These Games should be interesting for sure.

But who killed who? I might be reckless, but... but I'm not too sure whether I'm in this to kill or not.

I'm not a murderer. I'm not even a martyr. I'm not a full tribute, but I'm not a full independent person either.

I don't know where I stand. Not now and nor will I ever know.

And that's why I plan on catching people and hoisting them in the air. If I don't know where to stand, then I'll take away their ability to stand, literally.

* * *

******Overrated by Three Days Grace.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******No deaths.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Can anyone see any possible plots playing out? Think any alliances are destined to crumble, or maybe become perfect?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Erm. I feel much better about this chapter, actually. I was able to slow down and go deeper into their thoughts and minds. It's always hard to do that in such a fast-paced scene... but thank you for all the kind words!**

**This chapter was really a gateway in getting you lot used to the arena, setting the scenery in your heads so that later you won't have to struggle so much, and letting the tributes start up some plots and everything. Some of the scenes might seem pointless or random, but everything was done for a reason (i.e. Bracken capturing Laurel by complete accident, or Theon killing a baby Mutt). **

**Also, the personalities will begin to change as everything wears down on them.**

**For the record, Ewan has passed out, Colton got attacked and has now passed out, whereas India has awoken, but it still very much exhausted. Everyone else is pretty much okay, though some minor injuries from other stuff.**


	10. Sleep

**Sleep.**

_Some say now suffer all the children, and walk away a saviour._

* * *

**Ewan Cole, District Seven Male.**

* * *

Everything seems so blurred, the way the trees seem to sway and move, wave after wave of heat causing everything to transform and shape into something different, something... new. I'm not hallucinating, I know that much, but I know that I'm injured and whatever happened, whatever that... that thing did, it's affecting me in more ways than one. It's like my arm is literally burning. I scream again, and Justice's pale face appears in my view.

"Be quiet Ewan, you might draw in attention." she says sweetly.

"B-Bit like y-your scream d-d-did?"

"That was entirely different," she frowns. "You need to be quiet otherwise I can't help you."

She pulls forth a cloth - not even wet, just a simple cloth - and she dabs it against my sweating forehead. Her face is that of someone who isn't upset or mortified, but rather placid. Our lives were at stake, I even killed to save her, and yet, she seems far too calm for my liking. If she was this calm when the Mutt was coming towards us, then we wouldn't have had to worry. But no. Justice screamed and everything blew up in our faces.

I struggle to turn my head towards the wound. The gash almost circles my entire upper arm, ripped open and bleeding red. I can see the faint glimmer of pink muscle and white bone. The Mutts claw really dug in and ripped it open. I know now that my right arm - my best, most practical arm - is out of the game. I'll never be able to use it. My chances have gotten slimmer and slimmer with each passing second. And worse of all? It's like Justice is secretly counting down those minutes herself. I wouldn't blame her - I would do the same thing if the roles were reversed. But, I can't help but feel grateful that she's helping me. Then again, I did save her, so she does kind of owe me.

"Don't stare at it," Justice commands softly. "The more you look at it, the more you'll become worried and such. Ignore it and fight the pain."

"I-I-"

"Don't speak either."

All the sudden rules are making my head spin. Whose older here? Who saved who? I suddenly feel like Justice is making more like a mother and less like a person who needs to kill to survive. There's also something very off here. I can't pinpoint it - not with my head spinning and the pain, oh fuck, the pain - but she's suddenly grown up rather quickly now that Challis and Ezra are cleared from the picture.

"W-What are you d-doing?" I quickly breathe out, hoping the pain stops my stuttering. The stuttering makes me feel weak.

She looks up from her crouched position. "Just crushing some berries for you to eat. I doubt you want to chew, so I'll crush it and then you can sip it like a drink."

"H-How thoughtful." I wince.

She smiles that creepy, gruesome smile of hers and goes back to her job, using her hands to squeeze and pulp some berries I can't actually see. I don't think I want to know what she's making me. Justice was close to death on two occasions in the span of, what, a few hours? That Mutt was near her when she went to get some food. Then, it killed Ezra and really, his death should at least be on her conscience. I don't want to be horrible - I don't like her, but I don't go out of my way to make little girls cry - but it's the truth, and yet, Justice acts like nothing matters or happened. Like Challis and Ezra were nothing. I didn't like Ezra too much, but I'm loyal, deathly loyal, and that's one thing people can guarantee on me for. I joined because of Challis and, even after she was killed, I stayed with the alliance through loyalty, despite not even liking them all too much.

"It's almost ready," Justice says again, quieter this time. I look around at the open fields, grass all around me, but I see nothing. Some trees and a few crazy animals walking around lazily in the distance, but nothing urgent. So why's she whispering? "Here you go."

She's suddenly in my face, eyes bright but lips pressed into a thin line. There's a canister in her hand and she pops the lid, leaning it forward. "T-T-Th-"

"This is the berry juice, I guess," she smiles creepily again, finishing my sentence. "It'll make you feel better too. I added some herbal remedies."

"H-H-H-"

"I know enough about plants to know which kill and which don't."

For some reason, I don't trust her, but I'm not in a position where I can neither argue or fight her. I am literally at the mercy of a strange, creepy girl, and I can't do much but pray she isn't a lunatic. Challis would know that, wouldn't she? I mean, the girl wasn't bright - hot but dumb - but she should've seen warning signs if they were there, right?

I raise my good arm to take the canister from her, shaking violently, but she protests.

"Let me do it. You're in no fit to actually hold and drink it. I need some after." she says plainly.

I take a strong gulp and whoa, it's surprisingly doing wonders. I can feel the pain just being flushed out from my body. I still don't understand why Justice needs some, but I can't be asked to question her. This remedy is actually rather good. It's like I can feel and see everything just disappearing from my body, leaving me feeling light like a feather. My head still spins, though, and my eyelashes are suddenly really heavy.

Justice stands up solemnly and moves over to her backpack, producing a shiny object. As she comes closer, I can tell it's a knife.

"J-J-" my own voice is slowly giving up, slurred and thick.

I try to squirm, straining my eyes and pleading with them to stay open. But my moves are sluggish and everything, everything is spinning and I can't... I can't work out where I am. Justice's figure is now distorted, fading in and out as she lowers herself down to my level. The red of her hair is suddenly stronger, burning my eyes with each blurred movement. It makes my head feel like it's about to explode. But, the flushing feel is suddenly replaced with a feeling of icy coldness smothering my body.

"Y-Y-" I say, realising that she drugged me.

I see the flash of silver being hit by the light.

"Sleep tight, my little lab rat."

* * *

**Lena Romero, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

A cannon booms, scaring me from my thoughts. I turn to Theon and he shrugs, since, you know, there's not really much we can say until we see the faces later.

I know he doesn't want me here. To be perfectly honest, I don't want to be here either, but I need him. Theon, I've learned, is one of the biggest threats besides the Careers. His age, score and height makes him rather gruff and broad, a sight that would scare anyone into actually avoiding him at all costs. So, I need him. I need him for many reasons, but the biggest is that I can't do this on my own. I'm not stupid; I realise the disadvantages of being a sole tribute. I'm just not that great at making friends. Bracken is fine, you know, me and him have a decent relationship, but he's too reckless and pretty selfish, and besides, he didn't want any alliances.

Theon was on his own. Well, he is now, anyway.

I stumble through the grass until I reach the oasis, a beautiful circle of crystalline water. I found it rather easily - I followed this weird little Mutt that looked like a spiky cat. I just didn't expect there to be more Mutts of different kinds. The pink birds - flamingos, Theon called them - they weren't too friendly. Territorial, actually, as they chased and flapped and pecked at me. All these cuts and bruises on my face are just a reminder of what they done, much like the whips and scars on my back.

In the name of the children, I keep reminding myself.

"There you go," I say, pointing out to the water just a little bit of distance away. "Those little things out there are the ones that attacked and chased me away."

"Stellan never said they were territorial," he muses. "Maybe that's part of the Mutt engineering."

"Could be. Go fill your canister, I'll keep an eye on them."

Theon warily begins to walk towards the birds. I wonder if he thinks I have a plan? Maybe I do, but it's not deadly nor even dastardly. I just want some water and the birds are seriously getting on my nerves. Theon... Theon can easily snap their necks. It's a win-win situation for the pair of us. I smile bitterly as he bends down and begins to fill his canister. People think I'm using him, don't they? Of course they. I can practically hear the buzz of the cameras zooming in on us, waiting for me to run forward and submerge his head under water until he can't breathe... maybe I should do that. Maybe I should play it their way. But, I mean, what would be the point in asking him to join me?

I need some back-up; I need help.

The birds in the distance begin to turn, their pointy beaks and eyes facing our direction. Their stalk legs are wading in the water and the first one - the largest and, I guess you could say, the main bully - steps forward carefully. I didn't see them last time. Before I knew it, a flash of pink was near me and their squawks - so shrill and high-pitched - were echoing with each peck of their beak. They chased me out of their territory and I don't do well with being pushed around.

"Theon, you might want to hurry up," I state calmly, eyes watching the birds as they begin to move themselves into a formation, stepping carefully through the water. He doesn't seem to hear me, though, because he doesn't move any faster. "I said, you might want to hurry... those things - flamenco or whatever - they're coming closer."

Theon suddenly looks up, and the birds begin to run faster. I seem to yell loud, fumbling for the scythe on my backpack. It's a small one, easy for travel. Theon staggers back and tries to collect his mace, but the birds are at the water edge, leaping into the air, just like before. He curls his hand around the mace as I swing my scythe, hitting the first bird that gets near. It flies to the side and lands with a thump. Theon hits another, too, but his face looks anything but pleased. They keep coming, one after the other, and slowly, me and Lean go back-to-back, still hitting and swinging at the pink feathers that seem to swarm forwards like insects.

But they're getting too powerful; too fast.

Theon staggers backwards and I follow, tripping up over my own feet.

I barely see what's about to happen as one of the birds lunges forward at Theon's legs. I try to swing my scythe around, but another bird gets in the way, blocking me from the kill. It's beak, pointed and sharp, darts straight through Theon's lower leg. He howls in pain, blood gushing out as the bird rips it's beak out, dipped red. Theon's face drains of colour, but his mind still works. He manages to swing his mace - harder this time, more angry - and the bird's skull caves in, falling limp.

It's only then do I realise that this bird is bigger than the others... he's the main one. The others squawk and flee across the water, many of their comrades left dead and alone, feathers fluttering through the grass. Theon clamps his hand over the wound and falls down, whimpering under his breath. My mind whirls with guilt and confusion. I take his canister - abandoned - and pour the water over the wound, washing away the blood. Luckily, the beak went straight through his leg, not hitting any bone or veins or anything, I guess. It doesn't look bad; but he'll need something, like pills.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, knowing what it's like to be hurt for someone else.

He looks up and shrugs ever so slightly, his lips quivering, but doesn't say a single word.

I don't blame him, either.

* * *

**Fawn Asprey, District One Female.**

* * *

"Why are we missing supplies?" Kit hisses, keeping his voice low.

Ransom shrugs nonchalantly, but you can tell that he's determined to keep the secret from even me and Kit. That's unlike Ransom, I suppose. I mean, when I recruited him, I didn't expect him to be fully trusting of us. But, he did anyway, and that made our job a lot easier. But even now he's holding things back, and that just shows that you can't fully trust anyone in here. Me and Kit... we can, but even our relationship can only extend so far before it's all over.

"Maybe he didn't do it on purpose," I counter in Ransom's defense. "Maybe they slipped out. Once, I had some money in my bag, zipped up, and it just vanished."

Kit frowns at me. "What does that have to do with supplies going missing?"

"Just similar," I shrug. "Ransom might not have known. Right, Ransom?"

When I turn to Ransom fully, our eyes connect, but he still keeps his lips pressed tight and shrugs once more. He's really not letting up. I glance over my shoulder at Minerva and Anubis walking behind us, but they're having a conversation of their own. They're probably planning on taking one of us out sometime soon. The notion makes me feel uneasy, the many different thoughts clouding my mind. At any point, Minerva or Anubis can lunge forward with their long weapons and catch any one of us. It could be me, or Ransom, or even Kit. Kit would be likely since he's the strongest out of us, but Ransom's got bulk and, according to Minerva, I haven't got much going for me besides looks.

Each of us are expendable. Each of us can be taken out when it suits them both.

"Seriously, Ransom, we need those supplies too," Kit says, eyes wincing shut as they continue to trudge through the grass. He trips, but steadies himself quickly. "If you're getting rid of them to spite the other two, then fine, but leave some for us."

Ransom doesn't answer; but he shrugs again.

Maybe Ransom's choosing not to speak because he isn't a good liar? I mean, if you know you're not good, why waste the time and effort to build up the lie if it isn't strong? It could be a secret that Ransom doesn't want to share. And if he needs to lie about it, it might not be convincing, and therefore, there's no point. I've had my entire life practicing my lies.

District One is full of rich, snobby children who are either so rich that they can live a life of luxury, they can afford training at Kingston Academy, or so talented that a scholarship was placed for them. I have none of that, and yet, I'm an outcast in a district I grew up in. So, I lie. I lie to make myself feel better. I lie to fit in, so that I can actually have friends, so that... so that I'm not alone. I grew so accustomed to having to lie day-in and day-out, it's hard to stop; and now all the friends I do have are all false.

That's why I need Kit and Ransom, more so Kit. I need to have real friends, even for a few minutes.

"Does anyone even know where the water is?" Ransom finally speaks up, voice notably quieter.

Kit scans the area and bites on his lip slightly. "I think it might be... it might be over there. I have no idea."

"That's just great."

"You're the one who rid us of our supplies, Ransom." Kit argues back.

That's when he looks down more guiltily. I wonder how Ransom did indeed lose our supplies? As I said, he won't tell us, but there must have been a solid reason. I doubt he's stupid enough to drop them around the arena just so that Minerva or Anubis don't have anything, cause, well, what about us? I doubt, between the three of us, that we have any decent survival skills. I never trained like Kit or Ransom did, but I'm pretty sure I never spent too much time worrying about water and food.

"We need to find something quickly," I cut in. "Time is running out and I can practically hear Anubis chanting down the minutes before he can kill us for failing."

* * *

**Anubis Cotton, District Eight Male.**

* * *

"Any luck sniffing out water, Fawn?" Minerva calls out and Fawn shrugs from up front, her tiny shoulders bobbing up and down. I also happen to catch onto Kit's body tensing a little. Ransom has his shoulders slumped, however.

"You better hope you can find some seeing as Ransom has decided to mysteriously misplace our supplies!"

Then his body tenses, too. It's brilliant. All to brilliant. But at the same time, it isn't. That little idiot has somehow lost everything, and now, we're helpless. No water and no food. We have enough for maybe a few of us, but that's it, and that won't last. Maybe we should starve Ransom as punishment. Let him know that his actions, his... forgetfulness, means consequences. Might even punish Fawn just for the sake of getting back at him.

They think they have their little in-alliance so worked out and well hidden. They think that they are clever, that they are smarter than us, pretending there isn't anything there when so clearly, Kit and Ransom would do just about anything for Fawn. If she died first, then what? Would Kit and Ransom be able to hold an alliance between themselves? I hardly doubt it - they no doubt bond over their apparent love for Fawn and that's that. Kit is mildly intelligent whilst Ransom oozes complete uselessness, like two sides of the same coin, but still two different sides at the end of the day.

"I think I see something," Kit suddenly pipes up, a bounce in his voice. "I think... I think I see something in the distance."

"He sees something? Someone should tell him that that is what eyes are for." Minerva mumbles sarcastically, eyes planted on one of her nails.

I smirk, glancing at Minerva and then at the group in front. "And what is it, our flying squirrel?"

"I think... I think it's a..." his words cut off, like a pause, and him, Fawn and Ransom stop almost in sync.

Whatever they are looking at, they aren't letting me nor Minerva see. It's ridiculous how much they want to hide things from them. I mean, sure, me and Minerva have plotted their deaths countless times in our heads and we are kinda praying that Fawn just breaks in half because we're all wondering whether her bones are hollow or not, but the secrets are really starting to piss me off. If they want to be subtle, they aren't doing a very good job.

"Well?" I charge forward with determined steps, not wanting them to hide things from me. No-one dares to try and dethrone me. They don't try and stop me, though, and I thrust Ransom aside so that I can see. And, my eyes do not deceive me; two tributes slumped against a tree. "Ah, so, we've found someone. Hey, Minerva! We found two more tributes!"

I hear a dark chuckle before Minerva's footsteps are rushing forward, and then, she's right beside me.

"Well, well, well," she smirks, fingers tapping the handle of her scythe. "From what I can tell, it's a boy and girl."

"They're lying down... they could be injured." Ransom frets, causing both me and Minerva to give him incredulous looks.

"Wow. Just, wow. You're in the wrong business, Ransom," I shake my head, not really believing that he just said that. "Fawn, how about using your keen animal eye and telling us who they are, okay?"

I can see the glint of fury in her eyes, but it's quickly quenched as she strains them, staring hard at the figures. I'm not approaching them unless I know they are down and that the coast is clear. Frankly, the last thing I want is some pissed off ally just around the corner, waiting carefully for someone to find them. I'm not scared, I mean, who would be scared? Definitely not me. I just don't want to deal with someone whose hiding and has the advantage. I don't want a dirty fight, unless, you know, it works for me.

"It's definitely a girl and a boy," she speaks softly and carefully. "...but I don't know from where."

The way she says that, though, it seems like a lie. Maybe she pities them? Well, she shouldn't be here if she allows such emotions to take over. I mean, who would volunteer and then have a heart about killing? I was forced into this, lets not forget, but I'll kill for the sake that my life depends on it. Minerva kills for the fact that she wants to be, she chose to be, but so did Kit, Fawn and Ransom, and now suddenly they are too good to get their hands dirty.

"Lets go find out," I say, but Minerva has already started to walk, swirling around the scythe like it's a toy. After a while, the others follow, and Minerva begins to skip forward like an impatient child. She stops, peering over with a quizzical look. "Who are they?"

"The boy from District Twelve and the girl from District Five," she replies almost... saddened. "Not exactly what I was hoping for."

"Not up to your standards?" I tease.

She sighs. "No-one seems to be, no. Still, a kill is a kill, right?"

The others are suddenly behind us, their eyes locked on the two unconscious tributes in front of us. Minerva bends over and runs her finger across Twelve's jaw line. "He's unconscious."

"What about he-"

She leaps up as quick as a flash, her small stature and eyes burning as she lunges forward. It takes me and the other Careers completely off-guard. But, she's quick, her nails launching straight for Minerva's eyes. She barely has a second to avoid the stab before she dodges, knocking Five to the side. She screams almost pained and attempts to lash out at him again - but my arms are wrapping around her thin waist, hoisting her from the ground. She screams again as Minerva stands up, eyes flared in anger.

"You little brat," she hisses, whipping her hand across Five's cheek. The slap is so hard, it takes Five's head to the side and I stagger, off-balanced. "You're lucky I don't carve your heart out right now."

There's a second before I see a wad of spit flying into Minerva's face. I laugh, because well, this girl is fiery - maybe she should have been a Career rather than stick-legs, spider monkey and the walking blob.

"I swear, I will make you suffer." Minerva glares, jabbing her finger in Five's cheek.

"No you won't," Five whispers hoarsely. "You clearly have too many issues with needing to impress people, so it'll be quick, just to boost your ego."

I laugh again, watching Minerva's face tint red. The way Five said it; she seems almost oblivious to the fact that she's really pushing her luck. Minerva decides on slapping Five again - rather harsh, and this time, Five cries in pain - before she turns around and faces the unconscious body of Twelve.

"I know how I'll make you suffer."

* * *

**India Cross, District Five Female.**

* * *

My heart seizes in my chest as she steps forward, leaning over Colton's unconscious. I scream, thrashing around in the arms of the brute from District Eight. The worse thing is, the second part, I know she isn't lying. Her eye twitched and I instantly knew she wouldn't make me suffer because of her issues. The second time, using Colton, she wasn't lying - she'll kill him to get at me. I've only made things worse. I didn't even mean to, I just speak without thinking sometimes.

"What would you like, Five?" she spits. "Would you like me to torture him, cut in to pieces, carve out his lungs whilst you watch, helpless?"

That's a lie. I doubt she could do it. But she's trying hard to convince herself of that. I always assumed she was prissy, but clearly not... guess everyone has more sides to them.

"You doubt yourself," I say clearly, looking at Colton and pleading with him to wake up. Never, ever have I been wanting Colton to do anything for me so badly. Eight chuckles and causes me to vibrate, but Two is carefully staring. "You're a killer but I can't see you trying to carve out his lungs. It's a messy job and, no offence, but you don't seem like the type who likes to get dirty."

"She has you pegged." Eight laughs from behind me.

She snaps her glare in his direction before back at me. "You've got some balls, you know that? Or you could be completely brain damaged. I wouldn't blame you; I can hardly think a boy from the poorest district and then an emotionally retarded girl would be the best company. They've probably dumbed you down. But, I'll take care of that. I did take her out after all."

I can literally feel my blood running cold. She killed Fay? I didn't... I was unconscious, I don't even... when?

"Ah, so you didn't know that," she continues. "You were really out cold. You shouldn't be so trusting of him; he practically gave up the girl to us. Didn't fight or anything. She was crying and pleading for his help but he walked away."

That doesn't sound like Colton whatsoever. Colton was kind, generous, trusting... he was a friend who helped out two girls at a disadvantage. I swallow thickly and attempt to look around, desperate for a way out that can save both me and Colton. I won't be able to drag his body with me. I need him to wake up.

"Colton!" I scream.

She laughs again. "I'm going to go with the brain damage."

She bends over and, ever so slightly, she runs the tip of her scythe up his chest, pointing the blade at the sight of his bare throat, scarf falling around him awkwardly. My blood runs cold instantly and I try not to panic, still trying to work out a way we can escape; unfortunately, we're limited, but that never stopped Colton from saving and carrying me away from danger. She leans in even closer, inspecting him like a prize.

"I have a better idea, Minerva," Eight speaks, his words drumming against my back, making my whole stomach flip in the process. I thrash about in response, swinging my legs and arms out. I manage to hit him and he growls, throwing me down to the floor. I hit it with a thud and everything rushes at me too fast, the main thing being Two's boot. It collides with the side of my head and a wave a pain rushes over, causing me to scream. "As I was saying. I think Fawn should make the kill."

Stars pepper my vision and I blink rapidly, clawing at the ground and swiping away the stalks of grass in an attempt to... I don't even know.

"I don't really want to." a softer voice comes.

"I don't particularly care what you want," he continues. "Kit is strong and his score proved that. You... well, you need some use, and a kill will do that."

There's some rustling - like bags hitting the ground - and I turn over, facing upwards so I can attempt to see. My whole body is willing and screaming at me to do something, but what can I do? It's like Two hears my thoughts, though, because her foot flies through the grass and slams into my stomach, causing another burst of pain to escape my throat.

"I'll do it." a muscular voice bounds, but I can instantly hear how... how uncertain or conflicted he sounds.

"Really? Think you can handle it?" Eight asks.

"Definitely."

"Guess Fawn's bodyguards will do anything for her." I hear Two mumble, but no-one else argues back.

There's some heavy footsteps and I flinch, dragging myself up on my feet. The moment I'm steady, Eight latches his arms around me too quick for me to respond, so I just scream and thrash about once more. The picture becomes clearer and the boy from District Two - hair covering his eyes - steps forward, a knife curled in his fingers. I scream again, but Eight only slams a hand over my mouth. I continue to scream but it's muffled, and as I attempt to bite him, he only tightens the vice grip around my waist, making it harder for me to breathe. My head is literally spinning as he leans over Colton's body, bringing forth the knife. He swiftly glides it across Colton's throat - he couldn't even fight back. I scream again, tears peppering my eyes.

It's like I'm being forced to watch, and the whole time, his district partner stands to the side with a sadistic smile on her face.

I can barely see the blood pooling around his clothes, soaking them, before I snap my eyes shut and breathe heavily. His cannon sounds and I wince.

"What do we do about her then?" Eight whispers, hot breath ghosting over my ear and making me sob, muted. Within a flash, he throws me down to the ground again and I try scrambling away, taking another kick to the stomach from Two. I cry, falling to the side, defeated. This is it for me. "Minerva, any ideas?"

"Just leave her be," a soft but still firm voice beckons. That must be the other Career - the boy from District One. "She isn't going to be able to do much anymore."

Another boot flies into my head, effectively stopping me from crying, but the pain makes my head spin. I can feel the sticky feeling of blood rolling down my forehead, and it hurts so bad.

"Good idea." she says again, the final kick to my head cutting through the grass, causing everything to go black.

* * *

**Quinlan Nour, District Nine Male.**

* * *

I slide the knife into my hand and throw it evenly, watching the animal - a deer, I think, but with horns - jump into the bush. The knife whizzes in there, though, but doesn't meet a target.

"Damn it." I grumble, running over, pushing the large leaves away to see the ground. I curl my fingers around one of my throwing knives and get up, smiling at the surroundings. I'm impressed, I must admit. I didn't think the arena could be so... open. I've never led a free life, and now, I'm like a free animal roaming the world. Except, not so free, but free enough.

Is it bad that I don't feel too guilty about the girl from Eight? I mean, I didn't mean to be so harsh, but we're here for that exact reason. It's not like I chose to do all of this; I have to in order to claim my life back. My boring, controlled life, with a mother that can only but glare at me, a father who wants to make me something I'm not, and a sister that seems to be the epitome of perfection. Still. I'm not a Career; I didn't want to kill, but I don't have a choice.

I keep reminding myself that as I go back to my backpack on the rock, sorting through the stuff I collected.

I don't want to feel guilty over the death of a person I didn't know. I kept to my word to Bailey; I didn't target Fay or any of her allies. I went for Eight, who, as far as I know, lost an ally when Ezra died, which means no ties to me or Fay or anything. Completely open and free to kill.

It doesn't matter, she's dead now. Her death hits me a little harder than I expected. I mean, that's it, all of District Nine will be behind me... is that a good thing? I've always hated pressure, building on your shoulders and then weighing you down so cruelly.

If I win, it's for me, and no-one else. District Nine might get some more stuff, but frankly, it doesn't bother me too much. If I go all the way and win - living with the nightmares - then it's for me and no-one else. No matter how selfish I sound, or lacking of a real reason, I'm doing this all for myself, and that's why I'll do whatever it takes to make sure I win. If I have to kill a girl I didn't know, then fine. If I have to get over Fay's death - even though it's not a big shock - then fine.

If I have to be soulless in order to keep my soul, then fine.

My body suddenly goes cold and I turn around, my backpack abandoned and open. I feel as if I'm being watched, which is stupid, because I am from every single direction. But... it's like someone is narrowing their eyes on me. I quickly spin around and grab the satchel containing my throwing knives, slipping another out. Maybe it's just an animal, in fact, I hope it is. The bushes all around me don't move, however, even though a deer was just there moments ago. Maybe it came back?

Something doesn't feel right.

Something in the air, the ground, it feels... disconnected.

I just know there's something strange going on. A tribute is watching me, I know it. Or an animal. God, I hope it's an animal.

I laugh bitterly at the thought of that. I don't care about killing, I admit I'm heartless, and yet I'm still worried that I might have to face someone. I'm scared I'll lose, I admit it. I'm a kid after all. I'm heartless and mean, I don't care about others, so I'm selfish, but that doesn't mean I'm not terrified of being killed.

I shake away the thoughts and slowly put the knives away, an unsettling wave rushing over my body, making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise.

It's only then do I hear a tingling sound - like a bell - and I look up, the silver and white parachute drifting down so carelessly. I grab the container within an instant, finding that my sponsor gift is nothing but an apple. I frown, but really, that's all I expected. The note, however, only makes my worse fears come true. My heart sinks as I read every detailed word from Buck.

_Keep watching. You have company, Quinlan -B_

I snap my head around and gaze out into the long grass... someone is out there, I knew it. I'm being stalked like prey, much like that deer earlier. What a twist of events that leave my heart racing harder than normal. I wonder who, though? Who would be dumb enough to try and take me own, when my throwing skills are decent enough to land a hit somewhere?

There's only one answer, and I gulp thickly at the prospect of it being true.

Whoever is stalking me is much more skilled, much more confident, much more... dangerous.

* * *

******Sleep by My Chemical Romance.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Ewan Cole, District Seven.**

******Colton Dacanay, District Twelve.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Jasmine, I loved Ewan, but there wasn't really much left for him.**

**June, you too, Colton was good but he couldn't have survived with just India protecting him. **

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Does anyone want to predict any deaths next chapter?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Things are settling in for our tributes. Some are hurt, some are fine, some are slowing becoming darker and broken already.**

**As a pre-warning, if a character isn't mentioned in a chapter, you can ensure that they are pretty much fine like last time. **

**A lot of the Mutts will be showcased, but not all tributes will die from Mutt attacks. The idea is, these animals are indeed wild, which means yes, they are all dangerous, but no, not all of them attack for the sake of food/predator-prey. Just don't expect to know. Flamingos aren't aggressive in real-life, but territorial here. So, don't place your bets on the animals acting like real-world counterparts. **

**And because these animals are wild, you can expect that the tributes will indeed still be killing each other for the most part.**

**...and the arena is huge. But our tributes will still find each other ;)**

**...and again, don't forget the second injection.**


	11. Eyes On Fire

**Eyes On Fire.**

_And just in time, in the right place, suddenly I will play my ace._

* * *

**Theon Sykes, District Six Male.**

* * *

I watch as the water lazily laps against the edge of the pond, the birds now cowering on the other side. It was pretty obvious we killed the main leader of the flamingos, but it wasn't like I was planning on it. It was completely accidental, but it worked well for us. Without their leader, the others aren't as strong and guided; they'll be lost. My mind travels to the Careers; will they be the same? I hardly doubt it. They're all probably created so that their hearts are hardened to the fact that they can kill without remorse.

Lena's showing remorse and I'm not even dead. I'm not going to lie, ever since joining her, I've felt uncomfortable. When it was me and Stellan, it was different. I didn't feel so awkward and, frankly, I had a lot of trust in his skills; I mean, why would he teach me about animals if it wasn't trust? Lena is different. Lena is untrustworthy. I don't know her, I know nothing about her, I don't know her training skills or what she can do - sure, she killed some birds, but there's more than killing - and she's like an enigma.

An enigma I can't trust whatsoever.

And yet, I accepted her offer. I know why I did it, and that's guilt. I've always tried to look out for other people. I joined Stellan, a part of me wanting to help him, the other through the way he seemed to be. I should've helped Justice - I debated on that a lot - but I let it slide. I accepted Lena's help because she needed me... I try too hard to please people and then I'm going against my mind because I need to return to my children, and it's not fair on them that their daddy is trying to protect others at the risk of losing his life and leaving them without a father.

I can't please everyone, yet I want to try so badly to do that.

And what do I want? For Lena to leave. This was a bad idea from the moment she stepped out from the bushes. I shouldn't have agreed to it with only half a heart and head thinking it through. I've been pulled into something I want nothing to do with.

I hear the small jingle in the distance and Lena sits up alert by my side, scanning the skies. The white parachute drifts down ever so slowly until it lands a few inches in front. Lena scrambles forward and collects the canister, popping it open and retrieving the apparent medicine.

"It's some pills and bandages," she informs me, her voice choppy. "I guess you have a lot of sponsors then. Here, take some of these."

She hands me the little red pills that I gobble greedily, the stinging sensation in my leg really bothering me. As I rest back and enjoy the calming thoughts washing over me, she begins to wrap the layers of cloth over and over the wound that went straight through. I should feel lucky, I mean, I can still walk and jog, it just hurts. I really lucked out.

"Who do you think the deaths were?" she asks quietly, looking up for a moment.

I shrug, not really wanting to see one of the little children's faces in the sky, or Justice, for that matter. "Maybe a Career."

"We should be so lucky," she laughs bitterly. "I'm hoping it's one of them."

"Means easier competition." I reply, voice laced with a cold truth. That's all the other tributes should be to me; competition.

She nods knowingly. "I just hope it isn't Bracken."

"Your district partner?"

She nods again. "If I don't win, then I want him to. For my district."

Then it hits me. This alliance between us is only short; in fact, her exact words about this alliance was to get some water and fight off some birds. She doesn't care if I win and she dies. I get that, because now, now I know that Lena is detached from this. She's holding back her emotions and attachment in the hopes that it makes it easier. She's playing a good game; if I win - which I need to do with all my heart and soul - I don't know how I'm going to cope. She can win and be able to try and fix her life together once more. I nod awkwardly, looking elsewhere as she finishes up her medical achievements.

"I think we should split up now," I quickly say, unable to look her in the eye. I glance out into the grass, pretending my children are looking back, encouraging me. "I'm only going to hold you back, and as you said, if you don't win, you want your district partner too."

I don't know whether she's upset or not by this, but she shuffles a little. It feels like forever before she replies. "I guess you're right."

Her words don't sound so sure, but there's not much holding us together. I have children to fight for and Lena, apparently, doesn't seem to notice that I will be going at it to win, not survive. At least Stellan understood that I needed to do this. I still can't bear to look at her, though, my mind shouting at me for going against my morals of trying to please everyone.

Sometimes, you can please yourself.

"Feel free to take whatever supplies you want from my backpack," I mumble. "Just half everything."

"W-We don't have to do this, Theon."

But I just nod, biting on the inside of my cheek. "We do, Lena. I'm sorry, but I have to try and win this, and I don't want to drag you down."

What I forget to mention, though, is how I don't want to kill her. I don't want to kill anyone really. But, I have to in order to do the better thing. I have to remember that my children are more important than the other children. They are my blood; these are my competitors.

"Okay then," she mumbles quietly, her voice much more broken. I hear her scuffle around for a while, zipping the backpack open and then zipping it back up. I hear her stand but I continue to stare at the tall strands of yellow grass. "I'm sorry, Theon, for g-getting you hurt and everything."

I gulp thickly and nod. "Bye Lena."

I don't want to know if she's upset, I don't want to see her face or her eyes or anything. I want to be myself. I want to help people, but I need to help my children by letting them still have a father. They need me; they need me more than the other tributes looking for an advantage. This was a big mistake, and as I hear Lena walking away - the sight of her form disappearing into the bushes - I know that I've chosen the right option.

I've chosen the parental option.

* * *

**Laurel Aston, District Seven Female.**

* * *

I hook my arm over the other awkward, sage-coloured branch, hoisting myself upwards. This tree is strange, all willowy and long, like it seems to be falling over with creepy finger-thin branches. But, I'm light and limber, and with another grunt, I flip myself onto the branch easily. I smile and pull the scarf down from my nose and mouth, taking a huge breath of fresh, dusty air, before looking at the water in front of me.

The ripples are beautiful, just slowly caressing the side of the rocky knoll.

I doubt this is the only water spot; I mean, it's large, but not every animal can come here. I did a little bit of research in that booklet, just in case, and it said that different animals have different watering holes; I just hope this watering hole is for friendly animals.

After getting caught up in that trap set by the boy from District Eleven, I don't particular want to be blindsided again. I was lucky he let me live, but really, the trap was awesome. It was like a bungee, just bouncing me up and down, up and down, up and down. It'd be something I would have loved to do back in District Seven. I would have tied it to a tall tree, and then leapt off the branch, flying towards the ground. I would have loved it...

But a sense of loss fills my empty chest. Will I ever get to do that again? My mood is quickly dampened by the memories of my beloved district. I was made for District Seven. I'm a little wild and free, energetic and eccentric, and District Seven is for that. Kids - well, the strong ones - start picking up axes and throwing them. The smaller ones, like myself, we head for the trees and begin climbing as high and fast as possible.

That's why they want to call us a Career district. Because, by accident, all the children are learning something from a young age that could help them win the Hunger Games if they were ever reaped. We don't get many volunteers - a few, but not many - but they always die early on, and before that, they get decent scores and prove their talents with lumber. In my mind, there's no doubt that me and Ewan got high scores because we have a bit more knowledge than the tributes whose districts don't prove that... advantage, so to speak.

The wind whistles against my ear, bringing along the sounds of muttering voices.

I freeze, scanning around the grass far down. I climbed high just in case, but that doesn't stop me from being able to be seen. They're tiny voices, but I can hear them, and that's when their voices are coupled with the sounds of some heavy footsteps. Not human, but animal, I presume.

The tree - it's yellow leaves descending down into the water ever so gently, providing little to no cover - isn't the best choice, but it's one of the few trees you can climb, the acacias not having any branches. I don't even know the name of this tree.

I tilt around on the spot, digging my hand into the backpack to pull forth a small knife - I don't want to use it, but it's for my own protection.

That's when I see the hulking grey creatures walking towards us lazily. They don't do anything - their eyes partially closed - but their bodies are large and rounded, a silver colour, a long nose and pointy tusks being the most defined features. They look wrinkly, too. They weren't speaking, were they? I stare at the ground harder, noticing a head of blonde hair poke up out of the blades of grass before disappearing once more. I can't stop the smile that forms on my face. I know exactly who that is! Soon enough, another head of caramel coloured hair pops up and my thoughts are confirmed, it's the tributes from District Three.

The animals continue to walk towards the water, their large frame blocking the horizon from my view, but I'm fascinated to just watch them. I try to keep my eyes on the grass around their feet, looking out for the only other small tributes in this year; that's when the bob of blonde hair, the girl, rushes forward quickly.

They come out into the open, their clothes brown and worn a little. I smile even wider, unable to hide the happiness. I'm lonely, I admit... I need to find Ewan like I've been trying to do, but I can't find him. I hope he's okay. The girl goes towards the water and the boy follows slowly behind. They both bend down and start doing something in the water - probably filling up a canister - before talking quietly. The girl laughs all of a sudden and lightly punches the boy, but I can still see his grin, not as bright as I thought but still bright enough. They remind me of me and Ewan, district partners who get along really well. The animals are around them now, but they do nothing but drink from the water.

I do hope Ewan is okay. I know two of his allies are dead, but he's strong, he can do it.

I try to perk myself up with the idea of finding him. When I find him, I'll join him. I'm sure that he won't say no.

Until I can find him, though, I'm just going to watch these two and remind myself that just because you're in a dangerous place, doesn't mean you can't have a friend.

* * *

**Katerine Holloway, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

Serena stays silent as she picks some berries from the bushes nearby, only humming to herself when she doesn't like a berry before discarding of it.

"Serena, I think we have enough," I say calmly, watching her flinch at the words. I gulp harshly and twiddle my thumbs. "We need to keep moving."

She nods slowly and turns around to actually face me. "I'm sorry, I-I... I didn't think knowing someone was dead would be so hard."

She means her district partner, Ezra. She mentioned that they never really talked - since Serena's mentor told her to avoid friendships with your partner - but, she almost mentioned that knowing he's dead meant that her whole district was wanting more from her, and it made her feel sick. I never understood what she meant, but I'm guessing she meant by the pressure. If Colton ever dies, it'll be all down to me to ensure that my district lives a decent year; same goes for if I die, then it's all down on Colton. The pressure shouldn't be allowed. Our sole thoughts at this moment should be about survival and trying to win, not worrying about a whole district pining their hopes on you.

The stress isn't something people should have at all.

"I get it," I say, cause even though I don't, I can sympathise with her. "Don't stress out, Serena, please."

She grits her teeth lightly and nods. "I'm sorry."

I shrug it away and move over, watching her warily as she hops up onto the trunk of the tree that has fallen over, providing us with a seat. Serena and me... we're an odd alliance. We came together at the last minute, and we kind of work. I mean, I doubt she fully trusts me, but that's okay, it shows that she's smart enough to be wary of the people that might want to kill her in order to succeed. For that, I can appreciate her wariness.

Without her, I can imagine the stress. I'd be alone, scared, wondering what to do and how to do it. Serena isn't a walking supercomputer, but she knows enough and has a strong sense of leadership. Without her, I would've crumbled from the stress. My hand idly moves upwards, twirling around a strand of dark hair, before yanking it out. I try to hold back my emotions, breathing harshly through my clenched teeth and nostrils.

If Serena believes I'm weak - as weak as I feel - then she could easily abandon me. Serena is kind, she's nice, but she'd be an idiot to keep me around if she knew about my problems, and I wouldn't blame her for walking away. In fact, I'd encourage her, because I'm a train wreck waiting to happen.

"Come on, we should go, like you said," Serena mumbles, jumping down on the trunk and taking another heavy breath. "Have you got a weapon?"

I nod slowly, my hand grazing over the handles of the backpack where my knife is. Serena moves forward and fishes out her sword from the long grass, hidden from view but not weighing us down if we need to run. She truly has this planned out. She starts to walk away and I follow, sliding the backpack over my shoulder. The grass is tall, but me and Serena are still pretty much visible. She holds the sword down by her side, waiting, ready. She told me about fighting off the boy from District Seven pretty easily; she's obviously a quick learner.

It seems ironic - back in District Twelve, I was the leader, the one that everyone needed help from, and now roles are reverse.

We seem to walk for ages, Serena heading for an acacia tree in the distance. Each time we see an animal - a porcupine earlier, quills large and a vibrant purple - we duck and crawl, avoiding their eyesight. After a while, we hit the acacia tree that apparently turns out to be a group of acacia trees, all huddled together, the grass providing the best camouflage I've seen so far.

"Serena, can we stop for a bit?" I ask politely, realising that the heat is making my head feel heavy, the urge to rip my hair out even more stronger. "I ne-"

My words are cut off by the sound of a bush rattling. Serena snaps her eyes in the direction of where the noise is coming from, and that's when someone lunges outwards. It all happens in a blur, freaking me out and causing me to fall backwards. The tanned-skinned girl is quick, jolting out her foot into my stomach, taking away my breath. I clutch my stomach in pain as Serena comes up from behind, her clenched fist finding the girl's jaw. The girl - I now know as the girl from District Eleven - staggers backwards, so I swing my own hand out, catching her ankle and bringing her to the floor. She lands next to me and my first instinct is to clamp my hands around her wrists, holding her writhing form in place.

"Serena!" I cry, realising I'm losing my grip, but there's no need to worry.

Serena appears, sword held high, and with a swift motion, she plunges it into the girl's chest. The blood pours out frantically, the girl whimpering underneath my body like a fish out of water, the colour flushing from her skin. It starts to leak towards my clothes, a tiny river meeting my boot. I feel so sick, my hands now violently shaking. Serena, on the other hand, holds back a few tears as she pulls the sword free, struggling to compose herself, lips twitching and body slightly vibrating.

I look at her and then the dead girl, a cannon confirming it all. I should be worried after all.

* * *

**Nova Watts, District Three Female.**

* * *

"Is your tree nearby then, Nova?" Terris asks, sipping slowly on the fresh water. However, not so fresh, because he grimaces after he swallows. "That's more salt than it is water."

I laugh lightly and look around, finding the watering hole that the animals led us to are, indeed, bordered by the tree that I learned about. I knew that it needed to be near a water source, I just didn't expect a great load of options. "They're all around us, Terrorist. Just take a look!"

He cranes his neck around the size of the watering hole, the trees hard to miss. They stand out amongst the other flora, just simply because their leaves are a dried yellow and their branches are long and lithe, making it seem like fingers clawing at the sky. Their leaves are what I need and, sadly, they are up very high. That was probably the one thing I didn't calculate so properly on. I'll have to climb, which should be easy because of all the branches, but I'm not exactly made for physical activity. Terris isn't either, for that matter.

"So, these trees are part of the big poison plan of yours, correct?"

"Indeed," I smile. "The leaves have a natural poison additive that, when entered into the blood stream, can produce strong hallucinations. A stronger dose can cause the heart to slow down, not circulating the blood properly. I read about it all in my textbook, so don't fear, little explosives-expert."

"How are you even going to get the leaves?" he smirks, sipping the water again and grimacing once more.

That I don't know. I shrug, a little defeated. "I'll have to climb, I guess."

His eyes widen in surprise and he smiles comfortingly. "I'm sure you can do it, Nova. Think about what you can do with it - you'll be a huge threat."

"Same with you and your explosives, if you get them to work," I smile, pulling his backpack off of my shoulder and handing it to him. "Here you go. I'll get climbing and you can start tinkering around with your explosives. My blow gun and darts are in there, mind you."

With that, I stand gently and slip my backpack off my shoulder, placing it down next to Terris. I hear him zip his bag open and giggle almost excitedly as I walk away, arms outstretched and ready to scale the tree. I gently place either hand on the side of the trunk and try to hoist myself, switching one of my arms fast enough to grab onto a branch. I place my footing precisely, using the branches indentations to my advantage. After a little bit of climbing, I hear Terris clapping, encouraging me from the bottom. I can't fight away the smile as I climb another bit, just inches from the leaves. I swing my leg up awkwardly, hooking it over the branch. With a bit of struggle, I finally get myself sat up on the branch perfectly.

In front of me, the leaves look more crooked, an air of danger surrounding them. Carefully with two fingers, I pluck one off, examining it hard.

"Positive it's your plant?" Terris shouts upwards, his voice suddenly spirited and uplifting.

"Positive!" I shout back, the excitement clear in my voice.

I look in closer, inspecting what could be our greatest weapon alongside his explosives. I need to ground this up into a paste, then use it for the darts. I'll be able to take out even the largest of animals if they try to attack. Tributes too, for that matter, because there's no point hiding it, we and Terris are going to have to kill to survive. The veins of the leaf are perfect, ripe and fattened with the poison, it is ju-

"What'cha looking at?"

The chirpy voice makes my heart pause and I scream, arms windmilling as I struggle to keep my balance on the branch. I fall backwards, almost falling out of the tree, clawing at the bark hastily in order to stay put. My heart is hammering against my chest before I can register anything else, and that's when a girl's face suddenly appears in my view, her body hanging upside down. Her pigtails match mine; I instantly know her as the girl from District Seven. She smiles playfully before disappearing back upwards in the band of leaves.

"Nova! Nova!" I hear Terris' voice, but I'm too stunned, clutching at my heart in order for it to slow down. There's a rustle before the girl literally drops from the sky, landing on the branch perfectly, a leg on each side.

"So your name is Nova," she cocks her head to the side and extends her hand. "I'm Laurel. Sorry for scaring you, I didn't think you'd almost fall out of the tree."

I look at the hand warily as she giggles, still hearing Terris yelling from down below. Laurel glances over the side and smiles, nodding to herself slowly. If she's alone - and she's obviously around our age - then who am I to be mean and say no? She doesn't look dangerous, she looks... like what I've always wanted to be. I take the hand graciously and smile myself. "Nova, as you know."

* * *

**Bracken Mathis, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

The anthem blares out of nowhere, catching me off-guard. Of course, without a night, they'd have to play their little sadistic dance music at some point. The seal appears, before it transforms into the face of the male from District Seven. Huh. He was a strong competitor. I remember watching him toss around axes like they were play-things; whoever killed him must be either strong or just clever. After him, though, I'm left speechless. Lena's face is bright and clear, a taunting image that feels like it's directed at me. Did they kill her in order to play with my mind, my sanity? Lena seemed too strong to fall so easily... there's no real knowledge behind it. I'm so full of anger that I only catch a glimpse of Colton from District Twelve before everything fades away.

That means that eight tributes are already dead in, what I'm guessing, to be two days. I close my eyes and think back to them all; the girl from Four, the boys from Five and Seven, the girls from Eight and Nine, Ezra from Ten, Colton from Twelve and, now, Lena from Eleven. It doesn't take a genius to work out that a lot of the lower, poorer districts are falling first, but I guess that's the case to it all.

I step out from the bushes a little confused and hollow, not realising how much Lena's death from the Games would really affect me. In all honesty, I didn't expect it to be this hard, but then again, I did want her to win. I'm not even trying for that position, but it would have been nice for Lena since she deserved it, in my opinion.

The trap I set has pulled in a strange rabbit, just a lot larger and less hairy. Flicking my knife forward, I cut down the rope, watching the animal, dead, fall to the floor with a thud.

It didn't even know what was happening when it ran into my trap and now, it's dead. I guess us tributes are like that. We don't know what's happening until we're finally without a heartbeat. Same goes for our districts, come to think of it.

District Eleven is all about agriculture, and yet, we're poor as a district. We provide food for the Capitol and in return, we lose it for ourselves. We're nothing but slaves living on rations. No-one is safe. Our mayor, Mayor Drake, he lost both of his children to the Hunger Games before finally being banished from his post.

Did he get special treatment? Of course not.

Could he afford food? Probably not much better than us.

We provide everything for a tyrannical country that, in return, thanks us by relieving the district of one boy and one girl every year. That thanks, to me, is kinda shitty. I think everyone would agree with me that we'd take food or better living conditions as thanks rather than their attempts at stamping out our future generations. Panem makes me sick in general. But, I'm not a fighter, and I most definitely am not a martyr. I'm choosing to not win for the fact that this life - pressed underneath their iron fist - isn't really worth it.

I'd prefer to die on my own terms rather than letting them get the sick enjoyment of hovering their thumb over the button that'll end my existence.

I set back up my trap - my victims being a rabbit and the little girl - before going back to my little hideout, waiting for the right moment.

I take a deep breath, using my knife to tidily carve the skin from the rabbit's hide. This arena is like a giant market for meat; District Eleven and Twelve would have a field day. Once the rabbit is carved, I start up a fire and start cutting the chunks, throwing the hard bits into the crackling flames. The better pieces of meat go onto a spit placed over the top, tongues of fire lapping at the meat and turning it darker. When it's ready, I plop a piece into my mouth, but I feel sick to my stomach. I can't seem to rid Lena's face from my mind. I hope... I hope they didn't kill her because of me or anything. In fact, I hope she didn't suffer. She's too selfless to suffer and wow, she's probably the only person I really care remotely about in here, besides the squeak that's obviously an adrenaline junkie.

As I plop another piece into my mouth, I hear my trap snap, the sound of someone complaining chasing the noise of the rope whipping.

I stand up, amazed, grabbing hold of my knife and parting through the grass.

Quinlan from District Nine, bobbing up and down in the trap. I bothered to learn a few names, but really, only poor districts. Colton and Katerine from Twelve. Serena and Ezra from Ten. Quinlan from Nine. All the people who, I thought, might band together and become a little alliance based on poverty. Wishful thinking, perhaps, or an overactive imagination.

He turns around eventually, staring at me hard.

"Get me down from here!" he yells, face flushed red.

"I never did like you," I say absently, debating on my choices. "And don't yell; it's rude."

"I swear, I'll-"

"You'll what?" I cock my head. What is it with people being captured but still believing they can do damage? "Whose been captured and whose still perfectly okay on the ground?"

"You don't understa-" he says, looking around and lowering his voice. "You don't understand. I'm being followed."

"By who?" I question him, briefly glancing beyond his strung-up figure.

He seems to struggle to come up with an answer, his lips moving without words forming, but he seems flustered and anxious. In fact, dare I say it, he looks terrified. It could be a lie, though, I mean, technically, unless there's physical proof, there's no confirmation that he is indeed telling the truth. He could be luring me in for a kill.

"Sorry man, but I'm not buying it," I say, stepping back and turning around, scooping up my backpack and stamping out my fire. I can hear him arguing behind me, pleading, but I shut off my mind and walk away, unable to handle potential guilt. "Sorry."

* * *

**Percival Harlin, District Four Male.**

* * *

It looks like he got captured.

This toy didn't last long either apparently.

I watch as the boy struggles, strung-up like a pig waiting for the slaughter. The District Eleven boy really helped me out with that, I mean, it's almost ironic. I wonder if he realises that the boy was telling the truth? It's kind of hilarious. Eleven is now the cause as to why this boy will now die. He continues to squirm, fighting and huffing as he twirls and struggles to snap out of his confines. His head is hovering just over the blades of grass, tips tickling his face and neck ever so slightly. I follow the rope that's tied around his ankle, watching it go straight up and over the branch of a high, high acacia tree.

How did he reach that high? I mean, that's pretty impressive... he deserves some props for that. So traps are what Eleven excels that. That's good to know.

I step out from the bushes, carefully creeping forward. I keep my eyes locked on his back, watching it spin from side to side without ever letting his face find mine. He won't know I'm right behind him until it's too late. But, I've never been one to kill without a fight. What's the point in killing if you aren't going to fight? Killing someone in their sleep or when they aren't looking, that's weak. Every kill should be done after a drawn out fight; that's why we trained, why I trained.

I'm almost fight behind him when he gruffs, able to spin his entire body around. I watch as his face comes into view, eyes finding my legs and then going wide, a hidden fear clear.

"Looks like you didn't get as far as I thought," I mumble, tilting my head as I stare at him hard. "Man, you got screwed over by a simple trap. All you would have to do is cut the rope or, better yet, cut through your ankle if your arms are short."

He doesn't say anything, but the colour in his face quickly disappears and is replaced by a sheet of white fear. I find it amusing to know that my mere appearance is enough to scare him into silence.

"B-B-"

"It's okay, I'm not going to kill you," I smile falsely, staring up at the rope. "But you look like you could use some help."

I pull forth my rapier, though my weapon isn't meant for cutting. I sigh, twisting my face as I grab the boy's fallen backpack slightly shrouded by the grass, zipping it open and pulling forth one of his throwing knives I watched him throw easily. With it, I watch his face, lips held tight in an act of defiance no doubt. With a swift flick of my wrist, I cut through his rope, watching him fall to the floor with a thud. He scrambles to his feet, clawing at the dirt as he yanks up his backpack. I stand back and drop his knife, pulling forth my rapier. Just as expected, he pulls out one of his throwing knives swiftly and throws it through the air almost perfectly. I dodge it with ease. He runs forward and, with his arms out, he thrusts me backwards. I stagger back a little, twisting my arm and jabbing forth my rapier. He shapes his body so that the blade just skims his stomach, but he doesn't expect my leg which comes out and jolts into his lower abdomen.

He stumbles backwards, losing his footing and falling to his knees. But he seems to be fighting still, leaping out to land on his back. He flings his backpack across the grass - knives encased in his fingers - as I run forward, stamping my boot down onto his wrist, the knives falling out of his hand lamely.

"Sorry, but I have to admit, you put up a good fight." I say, slightly out of breath.

"It isn't over." he sneers, his leg colliding with the back of my knee and causing my foot to slide off of his wrist. He grabs hold of one of his knives just nearby and throws it upwards. Again, I dodge it, thrusting my rapier into his arm.

He cries out, blood pooling from his wound as he thrashes around, a poor attempt at trying to free himself; sadly, the rapier has embedded him to the ground, keeping him there. Tears streak his face and I watch, slightly curious and slightly proud, but really, not that guilty. My toy was never going to last long; it was always going to be hard to replace Odette. I push the rapier in harder, making sure the point is stuck into the mud.

With that, I step over his body, curling my fingers around one of his knives and sitting down on his squirming chest. I place the tip against the fine layer of his skin around his throat and rip it across, his body instantly going limp. Blood rolls down his throat, exposed and vulnerable, and I climb up shakily, pulling out my rapier.

The cannon sounds from somewhere in the distance and I smile.

Two broken toys and many, many more to break out there in my playground.

* * *

******Eyes On Fire by Blue Foundation.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Lena Romero, District Eleven.**

******Quinlan Nour, District Nine.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Becky, I apologise for Lena's demise, but I struggled to pull together her character.**

**And Audrey, well, I loved Quinlan through and through but like Lena, I struggled to bring about his character and I couldn't think of any plots for him. But, truth be told, Quinlan was actually like, in the top five tributes I loved personally!**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Any tributes from this point already that you want to make it to the final ten?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Fifteen tributes left in the game.**

**I have a bunch of plots in mind and I feel like I'm there concerning my writing. I actually really, really enjoyed writing this chapter. I now have a clearer picture on what to do in the future, and all my surprises will be coming into play. I have the Mutts, I still have the second injection and I managed to pull in another surprise that'll come sooner than expected, and it should be good ;)**

**Lena's death might have been random, but please remember that sometimes, tributes find each other and their instinct is to fight their way out, of course, you know, after they've been discovered obviously... otherwise their first instinct should be to get the hell out of there!**


	12. Gods And Monsters

**Gods And Monsters.**

_In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel._

* * *

**Terris Avar, District Three Male.**

* * *

After seeing her district partner in the sky, Laurel cried. I mean, she really did cry, for a while... she cared for him I suspect. Nova was good for cheering her up though. Within a few seconds, Laurel had stopped and whilst Nova seemed rather awkward about it - because, well, she's not the best conversationalist - it worked.

I can't help but feel suspicious about Laurel, and I mean, I shouldn't. Laurel doesn't seem a threat and in fact, she seems sweet and kind and I shouldn't feel suspicious of her, I shouldn't, but I can't help it. I wouldn't tell her, though, or even be remotely distant with her. I just hope she isn't a bad person. I doubt she is. Something I've learned from Laurel in the short time she's joined our little alliance is that she's extremely energetic, like a little animal who can't sit still. But these are the Hunger Games and some people like to play fronts to hide their true self in order to persevere.

"So, this plant," Laurel says sweetly, crushing one of the leaves between her two fingers. "This little thing is suppose to kill people?"

"Yeah," Nova grins. "Crush it up and then you have some poison to use."

"Doesn't that seem... I don't know, a bit too hopeful?"

"I did my research obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't have dragged Terrorist all the way out here," Nova smiles, turning to face me. "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine," I lie, words covered up by a smile. "I was just lost in thought."

"Is it about your explosives?" she teases.

"Yeah," I lie again, wincing at the memory that me and Nova used to put our entire trust in each other. Then again, she did keep a secret from me, so it's acceptable I do the same. "I was just wondering how many bombs I can make by splitting this battery up."

When I look up from the ground, both Laurel and Nova are staring at me with curious smiles, Laurel's a bit more open. "In English, please."

I swallow down the thoughts of letting this all out in the open and fight the smile onto my face. "Well, this little battery is what charges up the explosives, like a timer, I guess. By splitting it up, I'm weakening the damage but multiplying the resources. I can either make one large bomb that'll destroy nearly everything in it's path, or I can make multiple bombs that are much weaker, but meaning I have more weapons than I anticipated."

"Yeah... I still didn't understand any of that." Laurel frowns.

"He's saying that he can make one bomb that's huge or loads of smaller ones... I think," Nova looks at me with a quizzical look. "That's what you meant, right?"

"Indeed." I smile.

Nova smiles triumphantly as she goes back to her little collection of leaves that Laurel helped her pick. When I heard her scream, I panicked, of course I did. Nova is, well was, my only ally and I didn't want her to die or get injured. A few minutes of silence went by before Laurel hopped down, Nova not far behind, albeit more awkwardly, a handful of yellow leaves in their hands. I tune out their small talk as the two of them begin to crush the leaves between two rocks. Instead, I focus in on my explosives. I guess the better option would be to make many rather than one. That way, by enhancing my load, I have a better chance for the long-run. I grin childishly as I begin to tinker with the mechanics.

After a few minutes that seem to fly-by, I have my first explosive. The red button on the side will be the trigger, so to speak, and then it will implode. It's designed - just as I expected - to release a blast coupled with shrapnel. If it doesn't kill, it should daze and easily injure severely. My mood suddenly deflates at the remembrance that not killing isn't an option. All Victors, all survivors, they had to make a kill in order to claim their lives back. Last year, the boy from District Twelve, he won through pure luck, but he did kill, just only one. One life doesn't matter; a kill is a kill in this place. A kill is one step closer to returning home.

I zone back in on the end of Laurel and Nova's conversation, something about the poisons and how to crush them. A part of me wants to berate Nova for telling Laurel about her tactic, whilst not part of me is betrayed. It took her ages to let up that secret, and we're allies. Laurel comes along and Nova's handed it over within minutes. What's so special about Laurel? I sigh heavily, trying to clear my mind.

Laurel is not the enemy.

She is not the enemy.

But, technically, she is. And so is Nova. And the Careers and the rest of them, the others, all scattered out there in the plains. I stand abruptly, knowing both of the girls are now staring at me. I smile sweetly, though, because I don't want them to follow me and I'd rather them not be worried about me. I might be confused at the moment - skull drowning in thoughts - but that doesn't mean I want to drag them down with me. Plus, I still... I just can't with Laurel at the moment.

"Where you going, Terris?" Laurel asks, beating Nova to the question, though she nods along in order to push me into an answer.

"I..." I stumble around for a decent answer. "I need to go for a walk. Cramp."

"Don't be long and don't go far." Laurel teases, and I resist the urge to scream from all the conflicting thoughts in my mind; a battle between my old morals and the morals I have to adopt to survive.

I slowly part from the girls, back facing them until I know I'm a decent distance from the water and the girls. The animals around us have scattered, now, bored with their watering hole being infested by children talking about poisonous plants. My eyes slip closed and I tilt my head up to the sky, breathing in heavily to absorb as much air as possible, hoping it'll cleanse the thoughts of Laurel and Nova and the betrayal and the killing in store for us. Every Victor has to kill; Bolt killed a few, and even Mercury killed a child. No Victor walks away clean, and if I want to walk away, I need to be tainted. I let out a weak sob with no tears. Everything is so... so messed up right now; the world, my thoughts, just everything...

A scream cuts through the placid silence I had gained, and my blood runs cold as I spin around, feet moving before my brain has processed what it could be. The scream hurtles into the air again and again as I keep running, another petrified voice coupled behind it like an eerie song. I turn the corner of the large tree Nova had so eloquently hunted down, only to see Laurel's crouched form facing away from me, her body shaking violently. I speed forward as the scream happens again, and I know, I just know it's Nova. Laurel's body lurches backwards a little, making the scene clearer. Nova is crying, red-faced, but that's not what I notice first... it's the animal that has her leg trapped between scaly jaws. I run forward, my legs noticeably weaker and my breath making my chest constrict more and more. I dash past Laurel - whose holding onto Nova's hand, crying too, trying to pull her free - and go for the creature. It's long and scary, eyes like a reptile and covered in deep green scales. I bring my boot up and down on the head, but it causes the jaws to clench and that's bad because it makes Nova cry more. Panic is flooding my mind and my instinct screams for me to get a weapon, my explosives, but doing all that will take Nova down to.

I throw myself to the floor instead, clawing for Nova's other hand. I shuffle myself around and tug, the only sounds being Nova's terrified screams and Laurel's desperate crying. It brings tears to my own eyes as I realise that, despite everything, I don't want to lose Nova, not yet. Me and Laurel try to pull harder, but the animal just seems to sink it's teeth deeper and deeper into Laurel's leg. Blood is mixing with the water, now, and a deep red hue begins to smother the embankment and drifts out in the water, making the animal more menacing, like it's wading through bloody waters.

Nova's screams - a bloodcurdling scream that makes acid in my stomach just boil - blood pooling in her mouth and then dribbling down her chin.

That's when I notice that the creature has slowly devoured her foot, teeth now reaching the tops of her thighs, inching over the bottom of her back and stomach. She screams again, the blood spraying outwards, hitting me and Laurel in the face. The act disgusts me so much that my grip slips, her hand sliding out of mine. I know in those few seconds that she's gone. My mind is reeling as she screams a final time, before the splashes of water bring me back around to open my eyes, the liquid stained red.

Laurel looks at me and I look at her, our faces mirrored with our terrified, sickened expressions, dotted with Nova's blood.

I can feel the guilt creeping closer and closer to my heart.

The Games have begun for me; there's no turning back now, I'm stained, just like I wanted.

Just not like this.

* * *

**Justice Florence, District Six Female.**

* * *

A cannon booms, but it doesn't faze me as I continue to stare at the bloody knife contained in my fingertips. Killing Ewan wasn't a big deal, in fact, it was the better choice. I didn't want to keep him around; the only idea of this alliance was so that I could watch them, inspect them, examining them if the time came, not to allow them to live. I just didn't think I'd be the one to kill them. In all honesty, I studied poison as a back-up, not so that I could use it... but Ewan was so helpless, injured and, frankly, a goner.

Whilst he was out cold, I watched the claws take out Ezra's body and, as I craned my neck, I remember being able to see the horizon through the whole in his stomach.

But alas, now I'm alone. I enjoy the quiet actually. I look up from my seat on the ground, staring hard at the sky. In the distance, the sky isn't so blue and inviting. In fact, darkened clouds seem to be rolling in slowly. I feel like a storm is about to happen, but that might just be me. With a shrug, I stare back down at the knife, running my finger along the curved blade stained with Ewan's blood.

They got to take away his body eventually, just not as soon as they might've liked. I couldn't help myself. All those years of watching my father cut up the dead bodies to see what killed them, I wanted to try it for myself. Sure, sometimes he let me drag the knife down and inspect the insides, but never before have I taken the choice by myself to do it. This was all my choice and I really, really wanted to know what my poison did to his insides.

Suffice it to say, the poison had literally opened up hole after hole - burned around the edges - on his organs. Then again, me dragging my knife down his stomach, that could've killed him.

Either way, Ewan, Ezra and Challis, my once interesting alliance, have all but perished, one after the other.

That was the one thing I knew when I weaseled my way into that group; they weren't going to last long. With Ewan's death, it was but another tally; then the other boy and girl died, and now, later, another face will be in that sky. Fourteen players left. Theon is still alive, and I don't know how to feel about that. Do I honestly care if he's alive? A little. Theon wouldn't hurt a fly, and that's why he won't win. Besides him, the Careers are still standing strong with only one falling, and the other alliances I remember are still holding out.

As far as I can tell, my alliance is the only one to crumble so far.

I smile at the notion, dragging the tip of my blade through the dirt, staining the ground with his blood too. Oh Ewan...

A strange sound suddenly brings me out of my mind, though, and I stand up quickly, alert. My heart races despite actually knowing the source. Out in the distance, a little bit away, a spotted dog is walking around, head scanning the area as it makes this weird noise from it's mouth - not quite like a bark and not a growl either, but almost like a... like a strangled laugh. Without noticing me, I lower myself slowly into the grass, using the height of the grass to my advantage. It seems alone, just wandering around with much thought. But either though it's alone, it doesn't look friendly. It's lips are pulled back, baring teeth, dark eyes and spotted fur making it seem like something from a horror movie.

I watch it with amazement, my hand fumbling around the knife, running my fingers over it in an act of both confusion and excitement. If it comes closer, I'll skin it.

But it doesn't want me. A smaller creature hops along into the view and the dog sinks down, much like me. The other creature is fairly small with horns and some stick-like legs. It's oblivious to the predator that slowly stalks it through the grass, just lazily chewing on the tips. The excitement is flooding my body - I'm going to get to watch another death happen. Another animal kill.

It's close enough now, and out of nowhere, the spotted dog leaps from it's camouflage, teeth snarling. The little deer thing hasn't enough time to move and it awkwardly tries to run, the dog's paw smacking it in the side and forcing it off of it's legs. The creature squeals and the dog's head comes up - just above the grass - before it snaps down and the squeal disappears. When it comes up again, there's a layer of blood matting the fur, and it does that funny noise into the air once more.

My body is literally vibrating with anticipation and nerves and excitement, all brought together to bubble underneath my skin. I'm so excited, I don't even notice that the laughter into the air must have been a calling for a pack, since many other spotted dogs rush out of nowhere, clambering out of the bushes and the secrecy of the long grass.

A whole pack.

The excitement quickly dies and I'm only left with the dull wash of nerves running through my veins. My red hair falls in front of my face and I wince, realising how out of place I must be in terms of hiding. I try to bury myself deeper into the grass, hoping to hide myself from the predators only a few feet away. At first, it was fun, but now the horrid truth has hit me and I know, I just know that if I'm found out, I'm caught. The sounds of them ripping the animal open suddenly stop, and my blood runs cold. I dare to not look up...

...but I can't stop. Peeking through the blades of grass, I notice the animals sniffing the air, splitting off in twos or threes.

They're on the hunt again.

I should try and do the same. Rather than act like the prey, I should become the predator.

* * *

**Serena Pierce, District Ten Female.**

* * *

The sound of multiple howls echo throughout the grounds and I freeze instantly, jerking my hand out to grip harshly onto Katey's wrist. My whole body suddenly feels so tense, so rigid, and I can't move. When I manage to turn my head around, I can see Katey, her face pale and her eyes wide. Whatever that sound was, it was pretty close, if you ask me. And, whatever it was, well, there isn't just one, but more. I gulp thickly and snap my head in every direction possible, waiting to see if any animals come out of nowhere. My fingers twitch for my sword on impulse and I feel sickened by the fact that my first thought is to now kill. Katey does the same, though, and her knife suddenly appears from her backpack.

The howling continues, coming from all different directions. It feels like we're surrounded. I look to Katey again, hoping for some reassurance. I don't fully trust her, I doubt I ever will, but she's there if I ever need someone. The howling suddenly ceases and, for some reason, it's not as comforting as you would expect.

"M-Maybe they ran the other direction..." Katey whispers, hopefulness in her voice.

"I don't want to find out," I say quickly, edging backwards. "Let's just run."

We spin around and start sprinting in the opposite direction we were running. I know we're heading back to where I killed the girl from District Eleven, but I can't let that distract me. I feel guilty - in fact, it's eating me alive - but dwelling on something that can't be undone isn't going to help me return home. I feel sorry, I feel terribly sorry, but I can't do anything now. It was an act of impulsion and desperation, and I'll have to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life, whether I die here or back in District Ten.

If I let her kill eat me alive, not only will it bring me down, but it won't help Katey. I might not trust her, but she needs my help as much as I need hers, and after everything I've learned, and that's to not leave someone in the dark for too long.

We power through the grass, Katey right behind me, and I can hear her ragged breaths drifting through the air.

But something comes into view, yet my feet are hard to slow down. I pull up to a stop and Katey slams into my back, knocking me down to the ground.

"Sorry!" she pants, her hands roaming my back as I climb up onto my knees, grabbing my sword that flew from my hands. "A-Are you okay?"

I nod hastily, staring at the thing in front of me. "Katey... i-is that a body?"

Katey must look because I can her breath hitching in her throat. "Y-Yeah."

The memories of the girl flash through my mind, making my head spin from how fast I managed to act, piercing my sword through her body. I gulp down the acid that threatens the back of my throat before climbing up onto my feet, eyes locked on the figure in front. Whoever they are, they aren't moving, just slouched up against a tree. I look to Katey, the protests shouting in my mind. I know what Katey is thinking, just by looking in her eyes. I gulp thickly again and nod slowly, following Katey as she walks forward.

It's been a whirlwind.

Firstly, I let two young tributes go, through the fact that I just couldn't kill them. Then, I did make a kill, but not through want but... but from instinct. And now, Katey wants to help someone else and before, I'd be more than willing, and yet, the protests thunder through my mind, telling me that there's no point... ever since that kill, my soul is slowly splitting.

The closer we get, the more and more the tribute, obviously, looks young and feminine. It's a girl and I doubt she's my age or older. Her dark hair is splayed in front of her face, shrouding her facial features and eyes. I don't know if she's moving or not, but Katey's there first, gingerly inching closer and closer. The girl's head rolls back, exposing her face to be that of the girl from District Five, a steady, stained line of red on her forehead, stretching down to her nose. Whoever attacked her, done it hard enough to cause damage.

"Serena, I think she's seriously injured..." Katey mumbles, her posture crouching smaller and smaller as she gets closer to the unnamed girl.

This can be my redemption. But, by the looks of it, it feels like Katey is needing to redeem herself. She kneels down next to the girl and places two fingers to her neck, although it's clear she's still alive. My head and heart are at war, one wanting to think like a tribute and the other wanting to think like a decent human.

Katey's made the decision for us, though, and I'm thankful for that.

"We need to get her some water." I declare, knowing that by doing this, by helping her, I'm fixing myself.

* * *

**Fawn Asprey, District One Female.**

* * *

Kit looks in pain. And, I don't mean the small pain, oh no, I mean the sweating-and-the-almost-in-tears-but-never-admitti ng-it. We've been walking forever without stopping, Anubis and Minerva cracking down the whip like they're some higher beings and we're nothing but cattle. I would bite back, but frankly, I don't know whether either is worth my time. I'm just waiting for when this all combusts. I'm terrified of that moment, but I know I'll be safe.

I hate to say it, but I know that Ransom and Kit will do what they can to protect me, and that comforts me a little. If they have want to protect me, I won't stop them, but I won't let them do it alone. If it's a fight between alliances, then I'm in. I wouldn't abandon either of those idiots because they need me and... and I need them.

I keep my eyes locked on him as he slips his eyes shut, still walking, his jawline visibly clenching from the pain. Whatever is happening to Kit, it's really affecting him badly. For someone who I assumed emotionally strong, he seems broken by whatever is causing him so much agony. Ransom, on the other hand, is keeping to himself as of late, the kill obviously bringing more trouble in his mind than he first thought. I feel guilty, I admit that, but I didn't ask for him to kill the boy... he offered. I try to push the thought to the dark corners of my mind, hoping that I don't have to worry about Ransom too.

Not when everything might turn sour at any point.

I glance over my shoulder at Minerva and Anubis behind us, talking casually and strolling along, making us do the work.

I'm surprised they haven't killed Ransom after all the trouble he brought about. Well, actually, no, I'm not surprised. I guarantee that Minerva or Anubis is just waiting for the perfect moment to strike him down when he least expects. I still don't even have a clue as to why he is dropping supplies, but that's his business, not mine. He's playing with fire a lot, and sooner or later, he's going to get burned.

"Kit," I mumble quietly, his head turning to the sound of my voice, but his eyes are only half-open. I don't know how the hell he's managing to keep walking. "Kit are you okay?"

He nods sluggishly and manages a smile, his eyes popping open, suddenly brighter. "I'm great. Just really tired and I think I'm getting a cramp or something."

"Maybe we should ask for a rest," I suggest, knowing that, in reality, my question would be laughed at. Not only that, but Kit's a terrible liar. "I mean, they're both pretty damn evil, but they might say yes."

"They'll say no. But you got them sorted with the first bit; they're both pretty damn evil." he smirks.

"I'll kick their ass," I lie, stepping over a rock. "I mean, they aren't going to say no if we fight them."

"Fight them for a rest?" Kit raises his eyebrow, sarcasm dripping in his voice. "I'm sorry, Fawn, but that doesn't seem worth it either."

"What happened to your fight? Your fire?"

"And what happened to yours?" he hisses back, his expression looking hurt. "I'm sorry Fawn, I really am, but they're dragging us down. I'm like a bird, you know. I need to be able to fly and do my own thing without being held captive. We need to leave them or something."

I glance over my shoulder warily once more, just to check they aren't listening into our conversation. Of course they aren't; they're both too mighty to acknowledge us. "And get out how?"

"You said it yourself; we'll fight them."

And, once again, my lies have brought about more trouble than I anticipated. When I look into Kit's eyes, though, I know he's serious. He's been itching to knock-off Minerva or Anubis for a while now. Each time they speak, I can feel the anger radiating off of him like an aura of heat. He nods curtly, eyes fixed on mine. I always said that, as a team, we'd go in together. I might not have skills, but it doesn't take much to stab someone with a knife; any idiot could do it. I nod in response, my heart sliding down to my stomach slowly. I gulp thickly when as he jerks his head slightly in the direction of Ransom, walking with hunched shoulders just a few inches from us.

"Tell Ransom. We'll need all the help we can get." he whispers, sealing the deal.

The Careers are about to break.

And not everyone will walk away with their life.

* * *

**Ransom Denvir, District Two Male.**

* * *

I lean over, the knife cold against the flush of heat on my skin. He's asleep, unconscious, looking so peaceful and unexpected. He doesn't even realise what I'm about to do. The scarf has exposed his neck and gently, I place the knife against one side, pulling it across swiftly, red washing out hastily. The sight makes me feel sick, but at the same time, I'm fascinated by the act that I caused. I can hear talking from behind me, but I can't focus on it. I can only focus on his throat, ripped open by me.

That's the thought that plagues me.

Not so much the act, but after the after-thoughts.

Why did I enjoy it?

That's what makes me sick the most. I'm not an average Career. I'm not even really a Career. I'm Ransom Denvir, a boy forced to train and compete for a mother who breeds for the sole fact that one better not mess up her dreams. I'm not a Career. I don't enjoy fighting or killing or the Hunger Games... and yet, ripping open his throat, it let me with a sense of empowerment. I could do it. I was capable of taking a life. Granted he was unconscious, but I managed to will myself. I done it to protect Fawn - but how stupid was it of me. My mind seems to argue that it wasn't for her, not really, it was just a cover-up in order to take a life for myself. I enjoyed it and there's no denying it. The aftermath is something that makes me feel like I'm stronger than I was before, and I enjoy this newfound sensation.

But do I really?

I can't bear to be around Fawn or Kit now. Every time they look at me, I see disgust in their eyes. It's like they're looking into my soul, searching for the monster deep within, the monster that was but a seed, ready to blossom once the deed was done. Fuck it. I can't justify my actions without either lying or deception.

I took a life and I enjoyed doing it. I enjoyed doing the one thing my mother had trusted upon me to do.

I'm no better than her; I'm no better than Anubis or Minerva.

"Ransom," the voice cuts through the darkness and I snap out of my thoughts, unable to look at Fawn whatsoever. Before, I would have jumped at the chance to check out her body, but now, it only brings me with the realisation that I'm a monster and she's too good for me. Beauty and the Beast, how poetic. "Ransom. Look at me."

I am barely able to make eye contact, but it's enough to keep her quiet. "What Fawn?"

She looks around warily, but I know that Minerva or Anubis are nowhere near us. "We're going to stop soon. And, when they catch up, Kit is going to attack them."

That's something different to what I expected. "He's going to what?"

"Attack them," she says more quietly, our footsteps drowning out the syllables. "We're going to kill them both, Ransom. You, me, and Kit, we're going to take them down before they get us."

"Why would they want to kill us?" I ask the question despite knowing the answer. I feel like smiling sarcastically. "Is it because of me losing supplies?"

She glares a little but shakes her head, the gentle wind brushing her hair. "It's not just you or the fact that you discarded any of the stupid supplies. We've always been the walking targets, but time is running out and buttons are being pressed far too often. Damn it Ransom, you have to help us."

Because I'm the muscle. Kit's athletic but not as strong as he could be. Fawn isn't as skilled as she leads people to believe, so it's left to me, the brawn. I could maybe battle Anubis hand-to-hand, but it's Minerva that's worrying. I know for a fact that she's better than she leads on, too. She's sadistic but can actually back it up; Tarzana was quick to mention that Minerva had a habit of leading people into a false sense of security.

But maybe by helping them kill again, I kill two birds with one stone. I can experience the rush once more by taking out two of the biggest competitors, as well as making amends for my guilty conscience concerning Kit and Fawn. It's a win, win, win situation. I nod slowly and she smiles forcefully.

"Thanks Ransom. You'll know the signal when it happens."

She skips across the gap back to a walking Kit, whose face is scrunched up, like he's thinking about something. I continue to walk but glance over my shoulder at the pair of them behind us, walking casually except, except now, their eyes are planted on me and their mouths are turned up in predatory smiles.

A loud crackle of thunder snaps me back to facing forward, a dark shadowing spreading out across the horizon and speeding towards us. I look up above, the dark clouds rolling in, flashing blue every so often. The animals in the distance begin to scatter from the open plains.

A storm is on the horizon; for both this arena, and our alliance.

* * *

******Gods And Monsters by Lana Del Rey.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Nova Watts, District Three.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Necklace of Rope, thank you for Nova, I loved her character to pieces but it was her time to go.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Career deaths next chapter. Any ideas or preferences?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**As is obvious, our Careers weren't going to last forever. The plan is set in motion and the sides are picked. Next chapter, get ready for it to break and like Fawn said, not all of them will walk away... the amount of deaths, however, is my secret ;)**

**The storm is my other subplot you can find out now - it's nothing that magnificent, but after some research, I found out that Africa has a heavy season of storms that can be quite... disruptive.**

**Nova's killer was, indeed, an alligator. Some watering holes that animals like buffalo and wildebeest cross are occupied by alligators, and they pick the weakest ones off. After research again, I learned that they usually just attack the nearest or weakest thing that's close to the waters edge: Nova and Laurel were close to it. **

**This chapter was notably shorter... POVs have decreased.**


	13. Russian Roulette

**Russian Roulette.**

_If you play, you play for keeps. Take the gun, and count to three._

* * *

**Minerva Li, District Two Female.**

* * *

The anthem that plays seems funny now. The more and more I think about it, the more and more it seems to be like a celebration. Another one dead? Let's put some music on and dance.

Still, I look towards the sky to notice the little girl from District Three, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Dead. Another one without a life.

Eh. She was only a kid; not like she had much of a life to lose anyone. She's not picked off in her prime like some of the older ones. Not like us Careers.

I still have no idea why Kit nor Ransom like Fawn. I mean, really, she's nothing special and yet they both fawn over her like, like she's Fawn. I smirk and look at Anubis, his light eyes staring straight at the back of Ransom's head. Over it, though, you can clearly see the dark clouds that are rolling in fast. It doesn't take a genius to work out that a storm is approaching fast. For a second, it looks like they're miles away, but all of a sudden, they seem to zoom forward and, in a split second, the sun and light has been casted over by darkness. The air becomes notably chilly too and I look to Anubis.

"Would you look at that. A storm is coming." I say absently, my eyes drifting up and down the darkened figure of Anubis, his skin and clothes looking sedated from the shadows.

"Is that so? Well, this should be fun. About time it got interesting."

"Coming from someone who got reaped," I reply with a smirk, but I doubt he could see it. "It's okay Anubis, I'm sure you would have volunteered at some point."

"You're lucky that I like you, Minerva."

"It's not called luck, it's called confidence, cupcake. Everyone loves me."

"I'm sorry, but when did we switch personalities?" his voice sounds condescending, the roles back to normal obviously.

I laugh lightly at his comment and look back at the trio of idiots up front. I resist the urge to roll my eyes as they begin to slow down, Ransom slowly parting the distance between himself and the others. Is he that bothered by what he done? No-one forced him; we forced Fawn. He was the one who suggested that he make the kill and wow, it was ages ago if you think about it, about another four tributes died after him. I guess Ransom was not ready for this. I've always had a hardened soft spot for Ransom. Not just because of the Training Centre rules that I'm not allowed to kill him unless we're the final two, but because he's way in over his head and at times, it can be laughable, but at the others, you just want to shake your head and tell him to go home. It's too late for him, and with brutal honesty, I doubt Ransom will ever get to go home in any other form but a casket.

Without even realising, Anubis is right next to me, his shoulder almost against mine. "I think they're planning something."

I frown and stare at the figures as we pull to a stop. "What makes you say that?"

"...my stomach, I guess. Intuition, too. But either way, something is going on with them, they've been quiet and, if I'm not mistaken, but Fawn nor Kit have been fighting back as of recently."

"Kit never fought back," I correct him. "And Fawn has finally learned that she's nothing but a lost puppy without the pair of meatheads. I think paranoia is setting in for you, doll."

"No it isn't," he hisses lowly. "Just believe me for once."

I nod without much point, anything to really shut him up. I like Anubis. I do. But I don't like him to the point where I'm willing to die for him or whatever. He's good company and, frankly, I'm glad that Percival introduced him to the alliance since, without him, I'd probably be on my own since the three have become awkwardly inseparable and Percival has decided he's too good for us. Anubis is good back-up. But friendship can only take you so far in the Hunger Games.

I wouldn't think twice about killing him if it meant I could go further; just the way I've been taught. Friends are useful until that usefulness has run out. After that, they're dead weight quite literally.

Much with Anubis' paranoia, the others are beginning to unravel. Ransom is obviously a bit more guilt-ridden than he probably expected, whilst, true to his word again, Fawn and Kit are acting strangely uncharacteristic. Everyone is different here than in the Capitol. Well, except me, but that just shows the level of training I've had compared to the others. Unlike Ransom - forced into here by his mother - I was more than ready and compelled to do so.

Maybe that's another reason why I feel compelled to keep a soft spot for Ransom; we share parents who, obviously, have had failed dreams. My father worked hard to become a tribute, but was picked at the post because he wasn't talented enough. He's been bitter about it ever since and trained me the hardest in order to push me into the spot for tribute. Ransom's mother, clearly, has gone through her children until someone will grace her with celebrity status. Both our parents have forced their dreams and ambitions upon their children; but there's where me and Ransom change. He doesn't want this, I most definitely do.

Once again, without noticing it, Anubis has left my side. I look out - since the darkness hasn't really dampened sight, all it has done is made it go a bit darker, ready for the storm - to notice him standing off the side, facing the direction of a now sitting down Fawn and Kit. Ransom is nowhere to be seen and I spin around, looking out at the vast, open plains that have nothing in them anymore. My eyes widen as realisation hits me. I spin around as fast as possible, Anubis' words rocketing in my mind and making things seem much more clearer.

"Anubis!" I shout, hoping it stops him...

...but it doesn't. He leaps forward, one of his sais in his hand, and goes straight for Fawn. He's walked into their trap. Kit and Fawn turn around at the last moment and Anubis falls on top of her, forcing her small body to the ground. It's a sight that should make me laugh; but the dots are connecting in my mind. I start running forward as Ransom bounces up from the grass nearby. He dashes forward and grapples Anubis off Fawn, throwing him to the earthy ground, whilst Kit rises hastily, producing a long-bladed knife.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Minerva," Kit says lowly. I watch him carefully, the knife pressed against Anubis' throat and, for once, I can see that Anubis' eyes are wide and fearful or, maybe not fearful, but shocked. Ransom is facing me almost instantly, too, a similar knife in his hand. I've never seen them before, but the dots are still forming and yes, yes, the fucking- "It's our turn to be in control."

* * *

**Anubis Cotton, District Eight Male.**

* * *

I gulp harshly, my eyes fixated on the knife that bobs up and down with each breath. I grit my teeth and stare upwards, looking at Kit's chin. If I stare hard enough, maybe it'll freak him out. I doubt it'll work - Kit is probably the more determined one of the three - and I can't see him bending under a watchful eye. He's the sort that'll perform better if he's watched carefully.

"Do it," I hiss, clenching my fists around the blades of grass. "I dare you."

He glances down, his eyes notably darker, a strong jaw clamped shut. "Shut it."

I always knew Kit was the more stronger of the group. I mean, really, Ransom and Fawn are nothing special. Kit was always going to be the toughest to take down. Like his namesake - a flying squirrel, I dubbed him - he's agile and lithe, but with enough muscle to hold me down. I'm actually surprised at his grip, though I know his weakness has to do with his joints. Kit can go hard; but the backlash is always more painful.

"So this was the plan all along," Minerva says, the sound of her voice rather calm. I look to the side and see her holding her scythe wary. "You were just going to jump us when it suited you."

"Like you wasn't planning the same." Fawn counters with a steady voice.

"Keep out of this, twig, it's between us and the actual fighters."

"Think you're so bad Minerva, just because you got one of the highest scores and killed a tribute," Fawn spits, steady voice broken down by anger. "You're no better than us!"

"I'm better than all of you!" Minerva argues. There's a pregnant pause, the slight sound of thunder booming in the distance and the eerie whisper of the grass dancing. "We can talk through this. I mean, we're allies, a team."

"Yeah, sure, and then kill us when you want. Don't lie to us! You've been planning our deaths since Anubis checked Ransom's backpack."

"The backpack that had rations in that, if I'm not mistaken, Ransom threw away," Minerva edges a little closer and I watch her face as she glances at me. Her eyes aren't alarming, but rather sedated, like she has the whole situation mapped out in her head. She has a plan, and that makes me smile a little despite the knife against my throat. "The same rations that Ransom hid in order to hide the fact that you guys had some wicked knives. Sweethearts, you went to so much trouble for nothing."

I smirk now. Ransom abandoned the supplies in order to distract attention from Kit's backpack that, somehow, smuggled the knives used against us. I would laugh if it wasn't for the knife against my throat. This whole situation has turned out... ironic. I glance up at Kit again, his body now wavering under the pressure. He won't hold on much longer; Minerva knows that too, she pointed it out to me after all.

It hits me quick. That's the plan. Bait them long enough for Kit to be exhausted.

"Not for nothing," Fawn argues once more. "To kill you!"

Kit's wavers once more and I react whilst Fawn and Ransom are busy.

With my leg, I kick it upwards, catching Kit off-guard as it slams into his side. The knife cuts across my throat finely before it flings out of his hand, pinging into the distance. Kit stumbles as I throw myself upwards, sending my fist straight into Fawn's jaw, sending her reeling backwards. Minerva runs forward and as Ransom goes to slash with his knife, she catches it with her scythe, using her skills to her advantage to force the knife from Ransom's hand also. I spin around and target Kit, dashing forward - scooping down to pick up my forgotten sai - before slashing, watching the nimble creature avoid the attacks despite being tired.

I hear the scream as Fawn comes running, but I avoid the slash of the knife she's obviously recollected, sending another closed fist into her gut, hearing her grunt in response. Kit is staggering backwards as I take my sai and cut outwards, watching Fawn recoil as much as she can, before the blade cuts through her top and her stomach, blood oozing down. She cries as she falls to her knees. I lift the sai into the air and prepare to cut down, but a fist into the back of my knee forces me to the soil also. I barely manage to avoid the boot that comes stamping down, Kit having recollected his thoughts and priorities. With my sai, I slash out again, missing Kit once more, but my fist chases the air the blade had swiped, and I catch him in the back of the knee and bring him down, falling on top of Fawn.  
I'm on my feet within seconds, quickly noting how Minerva has Ransom pinned down on his knees her scythe held against his throat , keeping him at bay from the fight.

The adrenaline kicks in and I jerk my foot out into Kit's head, hearing him grunt in response.

"They didn't do very well at their ambush," I say to Minerva, slightly out of breath as I stand over the two exhausted tributes, side-by-side, watching with me with wide eyes. I turn around and look at Minerva in the distance, a fine line of red across Ransom's throat as he shudders on the spot. "Definitely didn't do well. I didn't expect much from them. The band of rejects aren't exactly going to be able to take us down. This is real life; not some story where the good one always wins."

"Swap with me Anubis," she replies with a smirk. I'm confused by the statement, but I reluctantly agree, watching her drag Ransom towards me. She stops, pulling her scythe away that I quickly replace with my sai, silver pressed against flesh. His face is much more meek with the darkened skies showering down shadows on us. "I want Fawn."

But rather than holding onto him like I'm supposed to, I smile, my lips laced with venom as I swipe the sai across his throat evenly, body crumpling as he collapses.

Fawn screams from behind me and I hear some rustling, spinning around quickly to face the danger.

It happens so fast that I barely have any time to relay the images; Minerva knocked over, sprawled on the grass but trying to get up. Fawn, laid down with her mouth agape. Kit, in front of me, the tip of the hot blade aiming straight for my eye, his own eyes reflecting anger over his fallen ally. There's no real pain. It happens but a second before everything goes black, my mind reeling as I fall epically from my throne into the black abyss below.

* * *

**Kit Felix, District One Male.**

* * *

Anubis crumbles quickly, one eye rolling back into his head, exposing the whites, whilst the other is bleeding heavily, blackened, my knife killing him instantly.

Two cannons sound one after the other in memory of Ransom and Anubis; their bodies lying just feet apart, dead a few seconds after each other.

Then my mind clicks.

Minerva.

I turn around in time to avoid the slash of her scythe, anger bubbling behind her dark eyes. I guess without Anubis now, she's on her own. She should have expected that, in all honesty, but I guess the realisation has finally hit her that, in the end, he was going to have to die. Actually, scratch that. I doubt Minerva wouldn't have any second thoughts about taking his life. I dodge the next swipe, kicking out with my leg, making sure to hit her behind the knee. She falls forward but manages to turn over, bringing her knee up into my chest rather swiftly. The pain sets off a domino effect that rockets throughout my body, setting off all the other pain and fatigue within my muscles.

She manages to get the advantage, bringing both of her hands down on my head, forcing me to the ground with a thud. When did she stand up? Why didn't she just kill me?

For the second time in a matter of minutes, my mind clicks.

Panic rises within my chest as I force myself upwards, the scene being Minerva standing over Fawn, the tip of her scythe pressed against Fawn's thigh.

"Should I do it, Kit?" she spits, a trail of blood rolling down her chin. "Should I kill your ally like you killed mine?"

I watch her carefully, the scythe digging into Fawn's thigh ever so carefully. An act like that won't kill her, though. I mean, it'll hurt and draw blood - maybe take some time to patch back up - but that's about it. Why hasn't Fawn fought back though? My heart constricts as I notice how Fawn's top is damp and red. She screamed, I remember that, but when Minerva swung out, it didn't hit us... I gulp thickly, realising that I was too busy running for Anubis that I never knew if Fawn dodged it or not.

"M-Minerva..." I say thickly, my tongue suddenly heavy in my mouth.

But she doesn't let up. Minerva just rolls her eyes and with one hand, she swipes the blood on her chin, smearing it. Fawn's not making any noises and that makes my heart restart, thudding harder and harder against my ribcage. Her life is hanging in the balance and I need to act fast. My head is literally swimming and the pain is starting once more, a dull vibration that starts in the joints and works outwards.

"Better act fast, cupcake," Minerva sneers, eyes scowling at me. "She's bleeding out pretty heavily. Another hole to worry about... she'll be bled dry within seconds."

That's a crackle of thunder that sends my eyes to the sky. The thunder happens again, lighting the dark clouds blue for a split second before the overcast lays on heavier. I look back at Minerva whose eyes are still locked on my movement. In the distance, just behind her, I can see the dagger of lightning ripping through the sky. A Gamemaker's ploy, perhaps? Maybe it's natural.

Is anything ever natural in here?

Another dagger of lightning that seems closer. It comes out of the blue, I flinch, and I notice that Minerva does the same. The clock is ticking. My heart is pounding, my fingers twiddling with the knife in my hand. Fawn is dying. No cannon, so she's holding on. Hold on, Fawn, hold on. My body is literally shaking with the anticipation and nerves and the fear of losing her too late.

Another strike.

Minerva flinches and I run. I'm faster and more agile, and I'm on her within seconds, cutting down with my knife and that she avoids, but not before it cuts her cheek, drawing blood. She hisses and takes a swing with her scythe, but I avoid it, sucking in my stomach. I cut her again; this time hitting her upper arm. My cheeks are flushed and everything hurts, but I can't look at Fawn. I know she's alive, but I need to either kill Minerva or make her run. Out of nowhere, I feel a droplet of water hit my head, followed by another and another, the rain coming down faster and harder. I use the confusion to my advantage and swipe Minerva again, hitting her upper thigh. She cries out in anguish this time, but before I can deliver another hit, she's gone. I watch her form dashing through the grass, disappearing into the trees across us.

I take a deep breath, allowing the rain to pour over me. I turn around, noticing Fawn's form laying on the ground. With tears pricking at my eyes, I run over to her, throwing myself to the floor as I reach her body. The cut across her chest is coupled with another, finer one; a cut from Anubis and a cut from Minerva. Her stomach is on show, but rather than tanned, it's red, stained and sticky, the cuts bubbling up black and red. The rain washes it across her body more, but the more water that hits her, the quicker the blood flees from her body.

"F-F-Fawn... y-you're gonna be o-o-okay..." I stammer, feeling the tears slide down my cheeks freely.

"K-Kit..." she quivers, looking at me weakly. Her eyes are glossed over, lips a slight purple. The rain washing down on her face makes her seem so young. "I-I'm n-n-noo-t g-gonna m-make it."

The sound of her anguished voice only makes my heart hiccup in my chest, tears pouring harder along with the rain. I push my hand underneath her head, raising her up from the ground. I nudge closer, grabbing both of her hands and holding them together.

"Y-You will be fine. Y-You have to. Y-You c-can't leave m-m-me."

She takes a shallow breath before a weak smile appears on her face. "Y-You're my b-best friend, K-Kit."

Her voice is but a whisper now. I squeeze onto her fingers, but her eyes and lips stay the same, without movement. I squeeze again, but she doesn't respond. My body is literally shaking as I squeeze and squeeze, but she doesn't move. My eyes fixate on her stomach that stops. I hold my breath, expecting her to survive, but a cannon brings about my worse nightmare. I let out a strangled cry as I lean over, placing a shaky kiss to her forehead.

My best friend is dead.

* * *

**Bracken Mathis, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

I run through the grass hurriedly, one hand over my eyes whilst the other holds my backpack close to my chest. The rain pours down and despite my best efforts, droplets slip past my hand and fly into my eyes, temporarily blinding me. The thunder still happens though, booming in the distance as I try to flee from it.

Thunder always happened in District Eleven. We needed the rain for the crops and everything, and thunder and lightning was almost always there to. Some of my best days were laid in bed, curled up underneath a shabby, torn blanket, listening to the rain as it hit my window, the sound of the thunder just filling my room. A part of me misses District Eleven and what it all meant to me. Some good memories are left there. But, I'm here now, and another part of me is glad about that. In an arena fighting for my life rather than my life being oppressed back at home. Not two great choices, but this is the better one. I wouldn't have volunteered though; that's ridiculous.

I almost run into a tree where I'm blindsided by the weather.

That's all I seem to do; run.

Run where?

Why am I running?

There's eleven tributes left and I'm still, and I'm probably the only one who isn't bothered about returning. Do I want to continue to live an oppressed life? No thanks. I'm too awesome for that kind of lifestyle. And besides, I'm sick of living under the thumb of a corrupted government. This arena is no better than District Eleven. Actually, no, at least here I can obtain food and not starve. I stop by an acacia tree, pressing my back against the trunk in order to shield myself from the storm.

The plains are no longer bright and bold, yellow grass and blue sky. Instead, everything is grey. The sky is grey, lit up blue from the lightning bolts, whilst the yellow grass now looks sage, whipping to the side as the wind harshly brushes it, rain pouring down on the earth. The scene looks like something a vivid imagination could create. Out there, somewhere, the other ten tributes are running, hiding, fighting perhaps.

I know the boy from District Nine isn't.

There's a hole in my chest from that. What he said must have been true. He must have been stalked; and of course, me stringing him up by the ankles didn't exactly help his case. Probably left him defenseless as someone decapitated him. I should feel guilty, and I do. I do feel guilty. If I had cut him down, he could have ran or fought, and then he might not be dead. But at the same time - would he have given me the same courtesy? For fuck sake, I mean, this is the Hunger Games, everyone for themselves, so I should be allowed to be selfish without worries.

He could have killed me.

But I wanted to die at the same time. I mean, obviously I don't want to die, but if it comes down to it, someone else over me.

The more and more I try to dissect my thoughts and morals, the more and more they seem screwed up. If Juniper, my little brother, could see me now, he would have probably slapped me, told me I'm being ridiculous alongside a bounty of curses. He'll be fine without me though. If there's anything I taught him, and that was to be strong and to hold his head high each time someone was prepared to knock him down.

The storm continues to roll in the distance and I fall down to the ground, bringing my knees close to my chest.

For someone who doesn't want to win... why am I still here?

I mean, if I really didn't want to win, to stay alive, then why do I continue to live whilst others die? Why don't I just take the number down another and let the final ten be more happier? For some reason, I don't want to be a martyr, I don't want to live and return to a district and life that I loathe with my being, yet I don't want to die either. Everything is so jumbled up that I can't see straight anymore.

With anger inside of me, I punch the tree, standing up despite my best efforts to hide from the rain.

I know what to do.

I don't want to win; I know that much. I'm afraid of death, but an afterlife or whatever has to be better than what District Eleven has to offer me. That means that someone else must, and it shouldn't be a Career. Someone who was forced, reaped, they should get to go home. Serena, perhaps. Or maybe even the little girl from District Seven. One of them deserves to return to their life.

I'll make sure it happens.

Slinging my backpack over my shoulder and pulling forth my knife, I begin to walk out into the misty plains, the rain heavily hitting my back and face. It only brings on motivation though, and really, a theme tune should be blaring as I walk hard and determined.

I'll help someone.

I'll force someone to kill me too.

Maybe the Capitol?

Maybe I'll hold out till final two alongside the little girl from Seven and then kill myself, leaving her victorious; there's so many ways to interpretate the ideals that run riot within my skull.

One thing is certain, though, and that is that Bracken Mathis will bow to no-one and will play by no-one's rules. If people want to see me as a martyr, who cares. If people think I'm a rebel without a cause, they can. What matters is fixing my mind so that I can actually eat some food in peace without questioning life's possibilities.

* * *

**Theon Sykes, District Six Male.**

* * *

The rain doesn't make things better for me. With each step that sends a wave of pain through my leg and up my body, I know that my time might be coming close. I don't want to think like that - I can't think like that - but at the end of the day, I have to be realistic, and with my leg like this, my chances are slimmer than they ever were. Robyn and Keane's faces flash past me eyes and that itself should put the fire back into my soul, but it doesn't. I have to be realistic and that means that I might not return. No matter what, I'm going to try my hardest until I'm nothing more than a bloody pulp if I have to, but statistics can place me against my odds. Before meeting Lena, I had the best odds possible for someone not in the Careers, and after her, after gaining this incident, those odds are slashed to almost nothing.

I resent her for that. I resent myself too.

If I didn't feel the constant need to help out others, I could have said no, could have killed her, and then walked away unarmed. Instead, I helped, I got seriously injured, now she's dead and I'm left with a weaker chance. I hate her for it and that leaves me even more conflicted. I don't really hate - how can I hate someone I barely know? - but for her, there's a burning feeling that I know won't go away.

Knowing she's dead makes me both happy and guilty. Did she die because I told her to leave?

I'll never know. I don't want to know either. It's for the better that I don't.

I swallow thickly and press myself harder against the trunk of the thin acacia. Rain still manages to spray into my face, forcing my eyes to close. But behind each blink and closed eyelid, I still picture my children begging for me to return to them. I see Savannah, too, her hands wrapped around the kids as they pray, cry, eat, all whilst being a family that I was once a part of them. It's tragic, it truly is, but they aren't the only ones on my mind. Lena. Justice. The little kids from Districts Three and Seven. They have families they were a part of. Why am I special?

I'm not special. I'm just like the other children out there, except I'm a teenager with my own children.

They are my heart. My soul.

I will return to them.

The anthem blare cuts me from my thoughts and I strain to look at the sky. The rain makes it impossible, but the glimpse I can get of the seal disappearing into the District One female makes me smile a little. Not that she's dead - I don't know her - but for the fact that a Career has died again. The more the merrier for not only me, but the other tributes. Her face morphs into that of the District Two male. Two Careers? Even better. But again, I didn't know him, and I mourn him for a moment before the reality hits me that my stronger competition is dividing and dividing with each cannon.

Of course that means weaker, younger opponents. Suddenly, I don't feel so great about Career deaths.

One more cannon.

Four more Careers.

I unintentionally cross my fingers and focus harder on the sky. Who is it? Who is it?

The District Eight male.

A smile spreads across my face despite the negativity that shadows it. Three Careers then. That only leaves the boys from Districts One and Four, as well as the girl from District Two. Typical though. The stronger Careers managed to survive whatever happened to them. I wouldn't be surprised if they all turned on each other and fought until blood was flying in every direction, staining the ground and painting the sky. With them all dead now, my strongest competitors already in coffins, that increases the chances I thought I had just lost.

And at the same time, it reminds me that I could easily be left to having to kill the younger tributes who remind me too much like my own children.

It's like the lion cub incident all over again; my heart and conscience battling it out to take over.

The rain continues to pour down, the sky flashing blue as another lightning bolt booms. I open my mouth and swallow some of the water, letting it wash over me.

Hopefully it can wash away my guilt and hero intents too.

* * *

******Russian Roulette by Rihanna.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Ransom Denvir, District Two.**

******Anubis Cotton, District Eight.**

******Fawn Asprey, District One.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**sailorblaze, I loved Ransom, but he didn't have much left to him anymore.**

**Hearts, Anubis was a great antagonist, but not as skilled as the others. Another of my personal favourites from you! In fact, possibly my all time favourite villain.**

**Lastly, Teddy, Fawn was Fawn and you were Fawn. Hope her death was heart-wrenching enough for you! Not as disgusting but more emotional.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**One more spot before final ten. Who do you want to not make the final ten and who do you think will not make the final ten?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**The storm that is happening is what my big idea was. Not exactly that great, but the rain provides a darker arena that'll affect what they can see and how far. It'll last over a few chapters as it passes over. In this time, the Mutts would have gone into hiding. Lightning, too, and it might even strike. ;o**

**We have eleven tributes left, and the majority are on their own. We now only have two alliances left: Terris/Laurel and Serena/Katey/India. All the other tributes are, indeed, on their own.**

**The second injection has only kind of come into affect. Some of your guesses are close (some more than others) and it might be what you think and it might not. There's two parts to it and only one has happened now, the other won't happen for some time!**

**For now, I have my storm to play with.**

**On that note, please don't completely trash Anubis. I understand that you may have hated him and wanted him dead, but I'd rather not see a bunch of swearing and angry, caps lock rants over his death. **

**So yeah. Hopefully this lives up to expectations?**


	14. Numb

**Numb.**

_When you first come in the game, they try to play you._

* * *

**India Cross, District Five Female.**

* * *

I can't bear to understand anything. I don't want to either.

I'm to blame for Fay's death. I'm to blame for Colton's death. They both died for me when I could have for them. That's the worse part about everything, the main reason as to why I want to escape from Serena and Katey. Alliances only cause me grief. I always fail them, one way or the other. People are better off without me, and that's the stinging truth, the truth that I can't bear. I can't be without people and yet, the people I am around, they die. They die because of me.

I was deadweight, and yet Colton saved me and left Fay behind, alone, vulnerable.

I was deadweight and my personality encouraged the female from District Two to kill Colton and spared me.

At first, it was hard to understand why they did leave me alive. Wouldn't it have been better to kill me? But then it hit me; why kill her, take away the blossoming misery, when we could leave her to self-destruct? That was their plan. If they killed me, I wouldn't have had to worry about Colton's death and the effect it left on me. So no. They left me, alive, just to constantly remind me that I'm to blame as to why two children didn't have a better chance. Colton was strong, he could have done it. Fay was twitchy but resourceful, she could have done it. What do I bring to the table?

Deadweight.

That's all I was. I was the glue that brought them together, but the scissors that cut them apart. Self-destruction by taking those out around me.

"Do you think she's awake or, like, half-asleep?" Katey asks.

There's a pause followed by the rustle of the blades of grass. I hear rain, too, hammering down hard. "She's... something. But she's not awake either."

I know they're there, but they don't know that. For some reason, everything is confusing, hazed and switched. I can hear everything, but all I see is a blur of colours and lines. I see two dark, looming figures, the aura around them both red and yellow, fizzing like the chemicals in a test tube back in District Five. I struggle to pry my mouth open, to try and tell them what happened, but I give up.

After the Careers left me, kicking me in the head, everything went black. It was dark for a long time, a dream about my life and what it had become. When I left there, my little sister was ill. I don't even know if she can get better. I left without ever knowing, the thought of seeing her being too much. I knew I wouldn't return, and that's the worst thing. I knew I'd never see them again, and bitterly, I was glad. I wouldn't have to see my family crumble. I wouldn't have to see my little sister get worse and worse until she died. I wouldn't have to see any of it because I'd be here. It was long dream that I woke up, only to find the world had changed. I could no longer see things properly. Everything was dark and hazy, but certain things were surrounded in muted colours. Certain things with a heartbeat, I learned when the two girls found me against the tree. I gave up. I was just going to sit there and wait for death to take me.

"Serena, she's stirring..."

That's how I knew it was them. They said their names, as if expecting me to respond. I tried, I did. I forced away the thick lump and the urge to cry and I tried to speak; it just didn't work.

"Do you think she's really injured?" Katey's voice beckons again, soft and troubled.

"Whatever has happened to her, it isn't right. Look at her face, Katey, it's drooping down one side, her eyes are open but it looks like she's not looking at us," Serena supplies. "Something's affected her nervous system."

"Maybe some venom from a snake, maybe?"

"It's this," she speaks softly, and then there's a touch, a red shape coming closer until a gentle breeze and some rain splatters against my forehead. That's where she kicked me, I remember. It still hurts, like a dull thud. "This must have hit her brain or something."

"Poor girl." Katey chokes.

The dark forms begin to move about, the sound of the rain still reaching my ears, keeping me calm. I should be freaking out or crying, but I can't. I feel... hollow. I don't feel real anymore, like I'm floating in the air within someone's twisted dream. I want to freak out too. I want to scream and shout and cry and hit something, but I can't. It feels like I'm detached from my own body. The figures begin to stand either side of my view, the rain and darkness in the middle. One is outlined in red, and the other yellow. Is this an effect of the kicking, or could it be something else? I don't know much about the anatomy and the brain, so I don't even know if what I feel is... real or true.

I'm but a shell of my former self, and knowing I could easily die... it's become all the more real.

The red and yellow is joined by another colour, another figure, out there in the plains. It's crouched, low, but the vibrant green waves roll off the body almost easily.

Someone is hunting the girls, and once more, I'm just deadweight.

* * *

**Katerine Holloway, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

I can't seem to peel my eyes away from the girl's body. We don't know her name, only her district, and calling her Five feels a little inappropriate. When we saw her from afar, she looked injured, maybe unconscious. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that whatever happened to her, there was no coming back. Her eyes are open, always open, open but not blinking. They just stare ahead, lifeless almost. Her face is falling, too. One side is drooping, eyelid sagging whilst her lips are half turned up and half turned down.

"This is insane," I say quietly, out of her earshot. "She isn't dead, but there's been no cannon and I haven't seen her face in the sky."

Serena looks as perplexed as I am, but she turns around, her face weathered. "Maybe she's dying. From what it looks like, that kick could have caused some brain damage or something."

I nod thickly, realising that everything could go wrong. She doesn't look normal, but I pray that Serena is right. For some reason, knowing it's brain damage makes it easier to swallow. If there was a Mutt or the Capitol's tricks, then... it makes things worse. My hand vibrates, the urge to rip my hair out nagging at my brain. I was strong before this. I was a good person, helping others. I took on the weight of the world just so others didn't have to. Now... now I feel like this nearly all of the time. I don't whether it's a good or a bad thing; it's made me learn to cope with certain things, learn to hide and become secretive, but at the cost, I feel vulnerable most of the time.

Serena turns to me, her lips about to speak words I knew were coming. "You want to put her out of her misery..."

"It doesn't feel fair to keep her like this. I mean, would you want to sit there, like a vegetable, waiting for something or someone to kill you? At least with us, it's... it's safe."

She's changed. Ever since killing Lena from District Eleven, it's like a new world has opened up for her. I can't put it down to that alone, but it makes sense. She killed on impulse. Now, she wants to put a girl out her vegetable misery. She was either really good at hiding herself, or Serena's becoming more and more adapted to an environment that only looks to break those within.

But at the same time, she's right. It's only fair to put the girl out of her misery - I mean, it's not like she's going to be able to defend herself or even fight back. She's useless, as harsh as it sounds. Serena glances at me and then we both turn to look at the unnamed girl. She won't recover. She can't become the Victor now. What we're doing... what we're doing is helping her. Her family won't have to watch, idle, praying for a daughter that just can't come back.

"Do you want to do it or should I?" I offer, even though I'm more comfortable with Serena doing it. She's done it once, I'm sure she could do it again.

"N-No," Serena stammers, the sword in her hand now shaking slightly. "I-I'll do it. Yeah. I'll do it since I suggested it."

It sounds more like Serena is trying to convince herself. I nod understandingly, stepping aside as Serena motions forward. There's a slight hesitation as Serena pulls her sword backwards, ready to plunge. I hear her mumble some words before, with a swift jolt, I hear the cut of soft skin and the bitter slice of metal. I step to the side, catching a glimpse of the blood and the sword. It's vibrating again, confirming my beliefs that Serena still hasn't got over the shock of it all, from the first kill to her second. The girl's eyelids water a little before they slip shut. A cannon is quick to follow and I know, I just know that deep down, she couldn't be saved. If I keep repeating it to myself, then it will make things alright, shouldn't it?

I close my eyes for a brief second, hearing the sword be ripped from the girl's body. The clouds thunder above once more and the rain continues to hammer down, but we're safe and dry. The girl was underneath a tree that, luckily, happened to have a canopy of leaves that stopped the rain from hitting the roots. We're safe from the storm, but not if it continues.

"She's in a b-better place." Serena whispers from my side, but I just hum in agreement, calming myself down to not just rip my hair out in clumps.

Everything around me is falling apart. I'm used to carrying the weight and being the secret keeper, but I can't hold on much longer. Everything is so bone-crushing, so soul-breaking, that... that it can destroy the strongest of people whilst flicking at the weakest.

I can't look at the girl slumped against the tree - hole in her chest - and I can't stare out into the plains for the fear that I could die any second now. My heart flutters in my chest as Serena sighs.

"Let's just sit for a moment and rest," she supplies. I open my eyes and watch her crouch onto the floor. "We have to brave the storm and go."

"But why?" I question her motives.

"They need to collect her body, obviously," she replies, a little irritably. "Katey, you're becoming paranoid."

I try to ignore the sting that the words leave on me. "Just feels... never mind."

"No," Serena sounds anguished now. "You have something to say, so say it."

But I can't. I... I need her. "It's nothing, honestly, I'm just... I-I'm really tired."

Serena hums in agreement this time, but the hum is slightly broken and wavered. Serena isn't okay, but she's holding on. I know nothing about her life, but something tells me that Serena is used to having to hold everything inside of her. Maybe that's why I felt connected with her when I sat down that day in training. Maybe... maybe something compelled me to a girl whom I can relate to.

There's a movement out in the plains. I flinch, staring hard. My hand twitches and I know, I just know Serena is probably thinking I'm being paranoid again.

"Katey, sit."

"Seren-"

"Katey you need to relax."

I squint my eyes. The rain pounding the ground makes it hard to see the horizon - the split from the sky and the grass since everything is grey - but I know I saw it.

That's when the movement stops and a figure stands up. My eyes go wide with alarm. Serena notices, thankfully, and stands up hastily too.

"Hello ladies!" comes the voice, and my heart freezes. It's him; we're going to die.

* * *

**Percival Harlin, District Four Male.**

* * *

The rain washes over my face and eyes, making things blurred, but I can see well enough to know that the two forms in front of me are the same forms that escaped me during the bloodbath. Did I say escape? I meant that I let free out of the kindness of my cold heart. There was no point killing them, I knew they'd be more fun after their souls broke a bit. After killing Odette, I needed to find more toys and, well, I thought I'd start by letting a bunch free, ready to hunt them down. Looks like numbers two and three have been found.

The girls stand out, faces darkened and hollowed from the distance and the rain. They look in my direction, and I even catch the glint of Ten's bright sword.

"I hope you're ready!" I shout, a crackle of thunder shooting out behind me. "The fun is about to begin!"

The girls slowly part, leaving the gap between them. I notice a third body slumped against the tree but not moving. Whoever they are, they must have just been the cannon. Looks like the girls are capable of such heinous acts; and here I was thinking that they were more self-righteous and pure to be able to drive a dagger through someone's heart.

I begin to walk to the side, bearing my rapier as I watch the pair split further and further apart, as if like animals trying to surround me for a kill. I'll have to pick one, and whilst I go for them, the other will attack. They think I'm stupid, but I've already worked out their plan before they've started it. Like them and the others, I manage to stay one step ahead. I planted Anubis into the Careers because I knew, I just knew it wouldn't last with him in control, and I was proven right; three dead in the span of a few minutes from each other.

And, like them, I plan to do the same. I branded fear into the boy from Nine's soul and now, I'm going to do the same to these girls who think they managed to escape.

"Make a move then!" one of them shouts, the one to my right. She's a little bit taller and lithe, so I'm guessing that's Ten. She also happens to be the better equipped of the pair with her sword. Twelve looks like she has nothing to protect herself with, though I hardly doubt she'd be in an arena with nothing to fight with. Unless, of course, she's that stupid.

"How about you?!" I shout back, craning my neck backwards in order to catch some falling water. "Bring it on!"

The thunder crackles again, lightning flashing the skies and ground blue for a split moment, lighting up their faces.

I was right. Without a second thought, I begin running forwards. The girls move into defensive stances, but as I near the middle of them, I steer left, towards Twelve. She'll be the easier one most definitely. Twelve is decent, but Ten is better. Her weapon is larger, stronger, and I fear for taking her down when Twelve is probably easy. The girl seems to notice and she jumps forward, brandishing a large knife. She swings wildly, but I duck and dodge in the right time. I jab out with my rapier, which scrapes Twelve's side, but misses overall.

Over the rain and thunder, I hear stampeding footsteps. I smile, stepping aside as Ten swings down her sword, metal chasing air. Twelve screams though, the fear of almost being hit by her own ally. I swing my fist backwards, knuckles slamming into Ten's jaw, forcing her to stagger away. Twelve is near me within seconds, but I easily dodge another swipe with the knife and chase my fist into her stomach, causing her to breathe heavily. A boot hits my chest, however, and the air is taken from my lungs.

Another kick sends me sprawling onto the floor as another kick lands into my side. I don't feel a thing, but being on the floor puts me at a disadvantage. I claw at the dirt, rolling out the way as a sword stabs the soft ground right where my body was moments ago. I swipe my leg out hastily, hitting something and pulling them to the floor with a thud. Another stab misses my leg as I roll myself over and onto my feet swiftly.

I see a flash of silver and manage to step back enough to avoid a fatal hit, but the harsh dagger slices straight down my cheeks towards my jaw. Again, no pain, but the shock is enough for me to react hard, shooting my rapier out straight into the girl's stomach. I don't even know who I hit, but as my rapier is in there, I flick my wrist and twist the handle, churning it inside her stomach. I hear a whimper and cry from the form before someone tackles me away, rapier handle flying from my hand but probably still stuck in their body. I land hard, feeling the force of someone punching me square in the face, causing me to laugh.

"Your ally is as good as dead," I spit, my fingers brushing over a stone. I curl my fingers around it quickly, swinging the rock up and listening to it collide with the other girl's skull. She cries, flying to my side and landing in the grass. "You might as well be too."

I stand up, watching the form in the distance stagger backwards and forth, before falling to her knees. I start to walk over, but her ally obviously is becoming used to being hit by me. Within seconds, I feel something smash over my head and I fall to my knees, catching a glimpse of dirty blonde hair and hollowed eyes before the blade of a sword suddenly swings out at me. Once again, I manage to avoid something fatal, but the hot tip cuts across my eye. I should scream, but blood is instantly clouding one eye, making things hard to see. I clasp a hand over it, sending my other straight into the girl's lower abdomen.

I use the time to stand to my feet, quickly running away, fire burning inside. The faint sounds of crying chases me as I run through the rain like a wounded animal, not feeling anything except for the burning feeling of embarrassment.

* * *

**Laurel Aston, District Seven Female.**

* * *

"It doesn't like it plans to stop," I say absently, looking up into the sky as the rain hammers down, flashing blue every so often. I sigh, looking across the branch at Terris who, since Nova's death, hasn't exactly been that cheery. "She's in a better place, Terris."

He looks up, eyes hollow and withdrawn as he shrugs. "Suppose so."

I play with my thumbs, swinging my legs under the branch. After losing Nova to that Mutt, it was hard. It still is, actually, to know that she was crying for us to save her and we just couldn't. We were powerless. With each pull back, the animal just dragged harder in response. Nova become like a chew toy stuck in a twisted game of tug 'o' war. Terris took it harder than me, but that's because she was his district partner. I didn't know Nova as long as he did.

The anthem that plays quickly cuts the awkward tension fluttering between us. I look up, hopeful, watching the face of the girl from District Five stand there, smiling brightly. It dampens my mood a little; I was hoping for a bigger contender to have died. Now we've hit the final ten, the stakes are higher and dangerous. Three Careers are still left, plus the boy from District Six who was both tall and intimidating. Not to mention that the girls from Districts Ten and Twelve are a hardened team, alongside the boy from District Eleven whose genius captured me in a trap. I smile at the memory; I hope he's doing okay.

Me and Terris, we're the youngest left. Our chances decrease with every minor death that comes - if they aren't a threat, we're more open targets.

Her face fades from the sky, confirming the final ten. I glance at Terris and offer a comforting smile, trying to build a friendship between us despite his hesitance. He might think I'm trying to replace Nova, when really, I just want him to like me.

"We're getting closer," I mumble. He looks up, nods, then back to sulking, backpack strewn over a nearby branch. "Terris, I am sorry about Nova. We couldn't have done anything else."

"You never told me how it happened."

I look up, eyes widened. "I-I didn't think you'd want to know."

He turns to me fully this time, the faint sight of Nova's dried blood cracking on his pale skin. "I need to know." he replies bluntly.

"W-Well... she wanted some water, lent over to get some, and then it attacked. It caught us off-guard and... and... I couldn't react quick enough."

He nods, but there's something in his eyes that I can't quite work out. He seems broken, I guess, eyes staring but it's like there's no life behind them. Did Nova really leave a strong mark on him, then? I suddenly feel so awkward, staying in an alliance that I clearly don't belong in anymore. Nova brought me in, now she's dead, and Terris is no longer wanting me. My heart sinks and I can't fight away the tears that prick at my eyes. Ewan is dead, so I can't go to him. Nova is dead, so I can't go to her, either. I swallow thickly, straining to hear the rain bombard the leaves above us, causing me to glance upwards.

When everyone was finding alliances, I didn't bother. I didn't think I needed them and I didn't want the chance of losing someone or being turned on. Being on my own meant I could focus on my own.

And at the same time, I realised that being alone made my chest that much more hollow. Being alone, surrounded by death and danger and blood and heartache, it's... it's really hard.

I don't want to die on my own.

But, at the same time, I don't want to be somewhere I'm not wanted. I want to smile and be playful, I want to be me, yet I'm slowly learning that the Hunger Games, this arena, it isn't to produce and help grow happiness and positivity... it's to crush your spirits and break your souls. To live, I can't be myself anymore. I can't... but I need to be with someone. It's all so much conflict that I can't think straight anymore. My heart wants one thing, my head another, and yet I feel like more should be expected from me... most children my age would cry, Terris should be too, and yet we're here, sat in a tree, safe from the rain in a thick tension because Terris is broken and I'm on the verge of crying my eyes out, ashamed and guilty and confused...

Ten tributes. I glance over at Terris, his head hung low. We're going to have to kill soon. I gulp again. I don't know how I feel about that... could we even? I mean, everyone is older than us, but to counter that, Terris has miniature explosives he created and... oh! I curl my fingers for the backpack just in front of me - Nova's backpack - unzipping it hastily. As I look inside, examining the blowgun, darts and a vial of crushed yellow fever poison - I even note how Terris is watching me - I smile. I know what to do with these, thanks to Nova before she...

"What's that?" Terris asks, voice grave.

"Nova's poisons," I say quietly, my mood dropping when I realise that Terris might not like me using Nova's backpack. "I remember she done them. We can use them, Terris."

He doesn't respond, the tension between us making it hard for me to breathe. Maybe Terris is the reason why my mood is always dampened as of lately? He's mourning, I get that, but maybe being around is what is changing me. I don't know. Everything is so messed up. I nod slowly, biting down on my lip as I zip the bag back up.

"I-I'll go..."

I swing my legs, ready to jump for the thick branch below, before a hand clamps around my wrist. I look, shocked, meeting Terris' lifeless eyes. "Don't."

"T-Terris..."

"P-Please," he looks serious, jawline clenched, making Nova's dotted blood more visible. "P-Please stay."

I bite on my bottom lip again, pulling myself back on the branch as the decision is clear in my mind, clouded by everything else around me. This might not be a good idea, but I have no-one and a part of me - the humane part - doesn't want to struggle alone, cry alone, die alone. Terris finally lets go of my wrist, but his face is still stricken. Something is bothering him; he doesn't look the same since Nova died. Terris... Terris has changed. His voice sounds desperate, yet he doesn't look it. I watch the lump in his throat bob up and down, jaw clenched and eyes still staring into the distance.

"What are we going to do now then?" I ask quietly, fingers playing with the zip on the backpack.

He seems to snap out of it for a moment, arms extending forward until he grabs his backpack, bringing it to his lap. He unzips it slowly, pulling out a small, electronical ball that must be his explosives. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. The way he touches it almost longingly says everything and more. He looks up one more time, eyes still hollowed and... gone.

Terris is gone, and he ain't coming back.

The Hunger Games are changing everyone. How long will it be before they swallow me entirely?

* * *

******Numb by Linkin Park.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******India Cross, District Five.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Bowler, well, I did love India but she was gone, and her part was to add something to everything else around us. She was a good character - so blunt and truthful - but she couldn't have lived much longer.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Any guesses on some effects of the second injection yet? (clue: there's more than one effect)**_

_**Who are your favourite characters so far?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Firstly, apologies for the delay. Anyone who reads Claustrophobia knows why, if you don't, I had a lot of college coursework and my birthday weekend took a hugeeee toll on me. That, and I debated for ages on who to kill before final ten. This didn't turn out as I hoped - I feel like it lacklustre. **

**If a tribute hasn't been mentioned in a chapter, remember, they're safe-ish. Nothing major usually happens off-screen. India was different. Each character should still be the way they were. It's just hard to accompany everyone over the course whilst the numbers are still large.**

**Not much to say, really, shorter POVs blah blah blah.**

**Things should become more climatic despite the lack of cliffhangers. Next chapter and onwards, things become... a little wild ;)**


	15. Welcome To The Black Parade

**Welcome To The Black Parade.**

_Your misery and pain will kill us all, so paint it black and take it back._

* * *

**Serena Pierce, District Ten Female.**

* * *

Katey screams as I dab the fresh wound, tears rolling down her weakened face. The rapier left behind from the Career is still inside her, and each time I go to lift it away, she howls out in pain.

"I-I can't pull it out," I stammer, using the wet piece of cloth to wash around the wound instead. "I don't know what to do."

Katey looks up at me weakly, eyes glossing over. There's blood everywhere, around her body and painting the ground. At the time of the attack, she brought her fingers to her face and now, dried and chalked, red streaks colour her. She almost looks like she's been attacked by an animal, but I guess that's what he was. I slip my eyes closed for a moment, remembering the attack and how, whilst we were planned and ready, the rain and storm made everything harder.

Now it's mocking us. I open my eyes again, bright rays showering the ground, ghosting over Katey's pale, sickened face. A few more hours, that's all we needed. I hear the horrible churning sound before I see it. I turn around as the metal teeth open, encasing India's broken body. It lifts her up gently and swiftly, before she fades into the sky. Ten more bodies remaining in an arena with many possibilities. At this point, anyone could win... anyone except Katey.

"Katey..." I start, my mind suddenly feeling fuzzy and distorted. "There isn't much I can do."

Her face falls, before the outcome was already written. Her fingers gingerly reach for her wound, shaking as they probe the soon-to-be infected flesh. She winces, gritting her teeth as a single tear escapes her eyelashes. The pain is only being prolonged.

Yet, I'm already thinking about walking away. I don't understand... I gulp thickly, staring at the rapier and how easy it would be to just push it away, twist it maybe, just to put Katey out of her misery. What have I become? Selfish. I wasn't always selfish. I was a good person, a nice person, but bad things change people. They began to judge me, taunt me, treat me like an outcast over a few simple mistakes. I was never given a second chance or forgiveness. I was selfless and thrown aside.

Now I'm selfish, wondering why I'm treating Katey differently. Nobody treated me different, why should I stay selfless and kind?

I didn't even want an ally in the first place. She came to me, after all.

"S-S-Serena..." she mumbles, and I look her in the eyes, trying my hardest to push away the darkness that's encasing my heart. What is happening? "S-Serena... d-d-do it."

Worse of all? I don't need to think twice or even go over my answer. I nod silently, reaching up and wrapping my hand around the handle. It's cold, just like me. I close my eyes, searching for something that could help me... but there's nothing. Everything nice in me is gone. Everything left is only darkness, sheer lust and a drive to murder.

"W-Wait..." she cuts in. I open my eyes and look at her. She reaches her bloodied fingers around to her hair, plucking up what seems to be a few strands. As she cradles it against her neck, she nods weakly, tears still flowing out of her closed eyes.

With a flick of my wrist, I twist the rapier, causing Katey to scream out. I twist it harder, clamping my eyes shut and jawline clenched. The scream slowly weakens and I can feel a dampness against my knees, Katey's fresh blood spilling out. The scream stops, and for a moment, it's quiet. A cannon quickly rockets in the distance and I open my eyes, registering Katey's lifeless eyes staring at me.

It hits me then. A tidal wave of guilt and disgust. My hand vibrates so much, I let go of the rapier, throwing myself backwards until I hit the ground. Bile rises in my stomach, the pounding in my skull telling me that I just killed my ally without remorse. It was different killing India and the girl from District Eleven, because they were just other tributes, other children, not the girl I put my life with. That was Katey. And I killed her without thinking twice. That was the main problem with our alliance; it wasn't founded on friendship, it was trust, no emotional attachment required.

Tears prick my eyes and I squeeze them tight.

What's happening to me? Since when did I become such a monster?

Nothing feels right anymore. The emotions evade my chest as quick as they came, leaving a hollow heart. I blink away the rest of the tears and stand up, using my bloodied hand to wipe away the dirt and dust, smearing my tanned clothing with dark red scratches.

Then it hits me again, a wave of guilt that pushes me about, making my head spin.

What's happening to me?

* * *

**Terris Avar, District Three Male.**

* * *

It hurts. Everything inside my skull feels like it's being encased between two cinderblocks, squeezing heavily until my brain is drowning in my own blood. One moment, I feel fine, the happiest you can in a place like this, but then it overwhelms me, swallows me, eats me whole until I feel nothing but blackness rotting in the pit of my soul.

This feeling happened when Laurel joined us. At first, I thought it was nothing - maybe hunger pains or whatever - but the pain only intensified what I had put down to a natural distrust in people. We lost Nova because of it. I walked away when, if I had stayed, I could have saved Nova. It hit harder after that, after the reality finally hit me as I desperately clawed the dried blood from my skin. I wanted to scream, to cry, but I just felt... empty.

I couldn't even hate Laurel because what could she do? She tried, like me, and yet, I wanted her gone. I never wanted her to stay in the first place.

Each time I look at her, I'm reminded of the burning sensation at the bottom of my stomach that tells me that I can kill her with ease, without stress or worry or guilt. Then she speaks - soft words from a soft girl - and it's like a momentary departure from a black shell.

When she wanted to go, I needed to make her stay. I don't like this dark place, this dark... hold on me. Laurel briefly pulls me from that. I need that. I can't let them change me; I can't be defined by their standards and their rules.

But it hurts so bad. I squint, finding the sun peeking through the canopy too bright. Laurel stirs on the other side of the branch, having slept upright, using her scarf to secure her to the tree. I lean up and strain myself, noticing the backpack full of explosives. I told her we'd use them, that it was time to act. I can almost feel the welling in my heart at the thought of the fire and the explosions, ripping something apart. It suddenly hits me and my mood deflates, the moment of joy vanishing. My black heart. The heart that now wants to hurt and kill. The heart that could probably do it without remorse.

For Laurel I could try something more discreet. I could slip Nova's poisons into her bloodstream. I could drop it in her half-opened mouth that flutters a snore every now and then. Laurel would never know, never feel any pain, never have to finally endure what happened to me. She would never have to feel the dull thud of the darkness because she'd be fine, free... dead.

As I lean forward, fingers aching for Nova's backpack, Laurel begins to stir. My fingers constrict back almost instantly, eyes burning and mind swimming.

"Uhm..." Laurel mumbles, using her fists to rub at her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Daylight," I reply, finding myself slipping back to reality. "You missed a cannon."

"Do we know who?" she asks meekly, her eyes casted downwards.

I shrug it away, but she can't see me. I swallow hard and compose myself. "No. Not yet."

Laurel nods with the words, undoing her scarf from around her tiny waist. She's my age, but it's easy to imagine her younger for more than one reason. She doesn't look that old, and her personality matches that of what you would believe; she could pass as younger, and yet, she's innocent and seemingly pure and resistant to whatever dark lust is ready to eat me alive.

I don't even know what is happening and I'm terrified, downright terrified, and I don't know what to do or even how to handle it. Mercury and Bolt never mentioned that the Hunger Games likes to play with your minds and sanity - they said that everything they did, it was more physical than mental, and that anything mental that stirred up was my own doing.

Am I making myself like this? Does a part of me want to kill and become the cold, ruthless murderer that I wanted to avoid, whilst retaining my life?

"Terris... if, if this bothers you, I can easily go," Laurel says almost sad, snapping me from the luring tendrils once more. "I-I don't want to be a burden."

I swallow hard again, almost fearful that I might swallow my tongue with ease. "You're not a burden." I utter quietly.

What else can I say? That I need Laurel to stay because it reminds me of the light that's possible? If she goes, and I'm alone, the darkness will consume me for good... if it hasn't already. It could have easily taken residence within my core, leaking out like some test tube experiment gone wrong or the way a rumor can spread, like the one about me being a freaky terrorist trying to blow everyone up. I could even kill Laurel without knowing what I done until after I realise I'm all on my own. The darkness... it could control me for a split second, just long enough to take her life. I was so close earlier, urging myself on... if she hadn't of woken up, she may never have saw daylight again.

"We should get moving," Laurel decides, swinging her legs around the trunk and looping the backpack over a single finger, nimble on the branches like she's at home. "I don't think it's a good idea to be... to be here anymore," she glances down at the water below, still stained red. "I don't want to be here anymore."

She jumps the branch and lands on another. My mind blurs as I scramble for my own backpack, feeling the safety confined within the fine material. The moment I jump, the darkness hits me like a wave of nausea, sending my mind spiralling even further.

Like a firework, I'm going to explode sooner or later. The more people around me, the more casualties... and it doesn't bother me.

* * *

**Theon Sykes, District Six Male.**

* * *

I glance up to the sky, noticing the black clouds slowly opening up. It's almost over. I balance myself against the nearest tree, taking deep, heavy breaths. With ten tributes remaining, it's about to get wild. I'm not prepared and I doubt it's going to be easy. I'm not giving up, though, and that's a promise. I never gave up on the children in my district when they couldn't survive, I never gave up on Savannah when I found out she was pregnant and I never gave up with Keane was born, followed by Robyn. I never ran away and I don't plan on now.

I need to get myself back together. Lena might have derailed me for a moment, but I have to try harder. Waiting around just won't cut it any longer.

As the rain slowly ceases, I wobble from out underneath the tree's canvas, revelling in the sunshine that beams down.

In the distance, I notice a flock of colourful birds escaping from a tree, a large, husky animal with a single horn stumbling out from the bushes. With the rain and storm passing, the animals are about to come back out. I don't know whether that's a good sign or not. The large animal - a rhino, thanks to Stellan - begins to graze on the dampened blades of grass and for a moment, it's peaceful and serene to watch. Other animals begin to pour out too, in the form of some gazelles and antelope. More animals Stellan taught me about.

It's ironic, actually, that two tributes entered my life, taught me something, before leaving. Stellan with the animals and Lena in that getting water can be dangerous.

But it's not about them anymore. For a brief moment, it's not about my children anymore either. It's about me and my survival.

If I keep putting others first, how can I save myself? I'll end up being a martyr. It's hard, killing children younger than you, but sometimes, you have to do just that. In the Hunger Games, it's expected of you.

As I begin to walk, a part of me feels glad for not helping Justice. If I did, she might've gotten me killed... would it be worth it? Justice might have a life, a family, but so do I. I'm not trying to be different, to be better than the others, but everyone needs something to fight for and I have just that. I also happen to have myself to think about.

I hear a whining sound before I freeze again. The sound ricochets again, coming from the bushes. I walk over unsteady, holding my spiked mace at the ready.

Peeking through the parted leaves, I see a flash of red hair and I know who it is.

Justice is bent over something, something large and spotted. She's not facing me but rather away, her tangled red mane curled around her shoulders. There's a short giggle and my eyebrows furrow. Justice is giggling? Her shoulder moves and the animal whines again, back legs kicking at the air in an attempt to get away. I lower my mace, pushing the leaves apart.

"Justice?"

The red mane shoots up and Justice turns around, blood smeared across her face. My eyes widen when I see the knife curled in her fingers, dripping crimson blood, and the animal in front of her. Her eyes are wide too, mirroring mine, but she doesn't look so scared or nervous. She looks... guilty. She using two dipped-red fingers to brush strands from her eyes and she smiles greedily.

"Theon..." she says softly, following my eyes that are locked on the animal. "Oh. He attacked me and I had no other choice... you understand."

Her voice is different. Her posture is different. Something about Justice is... different. There's no emotion in her voice but the soft, sullen sound of innocence, yet it contradicts the knife in her hand and the blood all around her. She shuffles to the side and the animal comes into view, a large, spotted hyena, cut open and organs on show; well... what's left of them. On the floor next to the weakened, rocking head, lies a large, pink object.

I look back at Justice, her face now dark and sullen, eyes as black as the night and a smile that could rival that of a killer. Justice isn't like the girl I knew back in the Capitol.

"Theon, where you going?" she speaks softly.

I raise my mace defensively, ignoring the protests that she's my district partner, the young girl that seemed quiet and lonely, her alliance wiped out early. "J-Justice..."

What can I say? There's nothing to say that would make this all make sense. I blink, a sudden thudding behind my eyeballs. It causes me to wince and in that time, Justice stands up.

"Wonderful, isn't it? It just... happened. One moment I'm running, hiding from these creatures and then the next moment, there's this pain, and I'm turning around and stabbing one."

I try to keep calm, staring at her. I'm older and stronger, taller and broader, generally a lot bigger. But so was that animal. It's huge, with jaws ready to snap and legs that could hold something down. Hyenas even hunt in packs, thanks to Stellan again. She managed to pick one off and defend the others away from her, unless they ran away. Whatever she's on about, it's made her slightly stronger, more aware and cunning. It might look like Justice, but it's been altered.

"What's wonderful?" I say bravely, realising the irony in that she's younger, and yet, I have to treat her like an animal, acting tentatively.

"The pain," she beams, running her bloodied fingers through her hair again, turning fiery red strands into bloody thistles. "It's... transformed me."

My hand twitches on the handle, ready to strike. Justice moves forward swiftly and I react, swinging my fist instead, my mind reminding me that she's younger. It collides with her face, sending her flying. She doesn't scream, just lands and slowly drags herself up. She smirks, a fine trail of blood leaking from her nose.

"You wouldn't be able to do it." she taunts.

Worse thing is, she's right. I can't do it. I'm not a monster, no matter how hard I need to be. Yet she runs forward just the same, knowing she's got me backed up in the corner. As I see the flash of silver, it reminds me of the tattered, silver bracelet that my mother got Robyn for when she was born.

There's a scream, Justice laid on the floor, unconscious, my mace now stained with blood. My eyes widen as the truth sets in. I wait in silence, holding my breath as I focus on Justice's body... her cannon sounds almost mockingly in response. I let out a shaky breath and drop my mace, allowing the dull thud behind my eyes to take over.

Maybe becoming a monster is easier than I thought.

* * *

**Minerva Li, District Two Female.**

* * *

I am everything my father wanted. Not for me, but for himself. He was never capable of being chosen to enter the arena, sidelined by the more talented people. It broke his heart, he used to say. The moment I could walk and talk, he started to train me, working hard to pay for the tuition at the Training Center. I worked hard for him, and his training became noted, earning himself a job alongside the people he so envied to be.

I guess you could say that it... built my path, so to speak. He wouldn't let me do anything else but train.

I didn't do normal lessons, normal school, putting any waking hour into perfecting myself as best as possible under his tutelage. I didn't have anything else but this. I was a shoe-in to be chosen at eighteen, there was no doubt about it. As I carve my name into the acacia tree, perfecting the wood cut, I smile. This was for me. I didn't expect it to be easy, nor this hard, but it's for me and my father. He's probably the happiest person in the world because of this and it makes me happy knowing that I did it; I made him smile.

People call me heartless and it's true. I am. I am heartless and superior and cold and cunning.

I'm also a human who loves her parents, so much so, that she's willing to try hard for her family, even if she can't help but occasionally note the bitter resentment in her stomach for her father's failure and apparent deflecting on her. So much so, that she had to avenge her fallen ally by taking revenge, hurting him where it would sting most - killing someone close, rather than himself.

At the end of the day, I might be cruel, but I'm not inhuman.

I slowly walk towards the way Kit was dragging my scythe across the bladed ground. He'll pay for what he did. Not for Anubis, but for almost beating me. I don't take too lightly to being seen as weak or a runner. I didn't like it when Percival overpowered me in training, causing Ransom to laugh. I didn't like it when Fawn got more applause than me. I didn't like it when Kit managed to make me run like a wounded animal. I never let them go undone. Ransom is dead, Fawn is dead, Kit is nowhere to be seen as likewise for Percival. For now, Kit's on the top, followed by the fisherman.

Being one of the three remaining Careers, it gives me some hope that the other tributes might take Kit or Percival out before I find them. They were strong, of course they were, because they had the highest scores and I'm not even sure why. Percival was cocky, flippant and annoying, whilst, in the words of Anubis, Kit was nothing more than a flying squirrel. Both will be dead in a few days.

The anthem cuts me from my thoughts quickly and I look to the bright sky, watching as the seal appears, transforming into that of the girl from District Six, red hair ablaze. Huh. She was still alive? I hadn't noticed. Whatever she was doing, she did well to hide and evade capture. The red hair soon molds into the girl from District Twelve, meaning that with eight tributes left, the feast should begin soon. That'd be a good way to bring Kit and Percival together.

I close my eyes for a brief moment and keep walking, brushing pass the wet blades of grass as they tickle my bare legs. The thought takes me back to the day that my father made me stay outside all day and night, underneath the pouring rain with nothing but a sleeping bag and an oil lamp. He told me that the only way to learn tough survival was to experience it.

I was only five or six. I never even understood. I banged on the doors, begging to be let in, but they never did. Back then, I was young and naive, never understanding the meaning behind what he was doing. He was preparing me so that I could be ready, whether I volunteered or not, though the volunteering was etched into my bloodstream the moment I took my first breath.

Some days, I wonder if I was bred just to become a Victor for a failure? It was his dream; it's mine now.

Kit will pay for everything, I tell myself over and over. I'm not driven by anger, rage or even a need to avenge Anubis - I would have had to kill him sooner or later, or just simply mourn his death - but I'm driven by the dying need that I cannot, will not, allow myself to be beaten or seen as weak.

There's a sudden movement in the distance and I squint my eyes, staring hard at the prairie horizon. Another swift movement. Icy claws constrict at my heart, reminding me that now, after everything, I can become well and truly scared. I clutch harder on my scythe, ready to lift it if necessary. The swift movement makes the grass dance, swaying lightly to the motion. I squint harder, straining my vision in order to make something out. This reminds me of another trick my father did to prepare me also.

As the swift movement comes closer, I swing the scythe in a circle, bringing the tip of the blade until it hits something strong, the blur of jaws and feral eyes passing my vision before it slumps to the floor. There's a muted cry and my body vibrates with the nerves and adrenaline, the same reaction I had when I stared Kit down as I let Fawn bleed out. The animal is long and lithe, legs built for running at top speeds. I stare at it hard, noting the spots in my mind as I rip out the scythe from the soft flesh.

But rather than red stained over silver, I'm supplied with black. Black, oozing liquid that reminds me of the gasoline that they used to put in the machinery for stone-cutting. It's thick, lumpy, rolling down in clumps as it flies off the end of the blade. The darkened liquid even coats the once yellow fur, spreading out. If it was a Mutt, shouldn't it have bled red? Many years of watching past Games has taught me that Mutts still tend to bleed red, like the animals they've been transformed into. I kick the animal lightly, hearing the forsaken but weakened growl that vibrates from the back of it's throat. It's eyes are open, though, staring in the opposite direction. Curiosity gets the better of me and I step over the animal, eyes growing wide at the sight.

Feral eyes was by far the weakest detail I could have used. The eyes are blood red - where the whites should be - blackened veins shooting to the iris. I don't know much about animals, but they aren't suppose to be like that. The sight takes my breath away, leaving my head swimming as if filled with dozens of tiny balls, rattling around.

The storm has done something... I don't know what, but something is different. Even the air feels... dark, come to think of it.

There's another growl, followed by another. In a moment of silence - coupled by the sound of my breath in my throat and the animal's breathing becoming wheezy - I realise that things have changed. I should smile, and yet, I can't force anything on my face. The Games have truly changed me like father had warned they would and I had been adamant that they wouldn't. I'm finally scared.

The sound of roaring and animals fighting soon fills the air. Hisses and pained screeches, claws being swiped followed by painful calls, heavy bodies and feet hitting the ground with a thud. I can hear my heartbeat in my skull, hammering away, the emotions rising in me.

Then everything goes silent.

It only hits me then; I realise that silence never is a good thing. It was silent before the bloodbath. Silent before Anubis attacked and was overpowered. Silent before we found the two allies, near-unconscious. Silent before the animal attacked me.

Silence is just as dangerous as the noise that surrounds me.

There's a small thud before I turn, facing the exact same creature, like a copy, motioning out from the bushes with deep red eyes, black pupils swallowed by the sea of crimson. As it charges forward, I raise my scythe and prepare to strike.

Father could never have prepared me for this. Then again, he's the failure, not me.

* * *

******Welcome To The Black Parade by My Chemical Romance.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Katerine Holloway, District Twelve.**

******Justice Florence, District Six.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Chaos, for starters, I loved Katey and her normality with added desperation. Sadly, her injury wasn't going to save her...**

**Ace! Well, Justice was... different. Morbid, yes, but more childlike and curious. She had a good run, but things had swallowed her already-kinda-dark mind a lot quicker than it would the others.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Final eight now. Which ones do you want to make the final five? For reference, we have Kit, Minerva, Terris, Percival, Theon, Laurel, Serena and Bracken.**_

_**Did you like the second injection idea? ;D**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Okay. Second injection revealed. Let me spell this out clearly because it might not make sense:**

**The injection is to heighten the darkness and animalistic, natural survival that all humans have. We all want to survive, and the injection plays on that alongside an added darkness to it. That's why some tributes have been off. The injection targets what I would call the weaker minds, the ones who are more easily influenced, easily changed... easily naïve. People like Serena, she's overwhelmed and it consumed her easily. Someone like Theon, hopeless at the moment, is consumed easily. Someone like Laurel, however, is still relatively the same and what I would call strong-minded due to a lack of outer variables swaying her judgement/personality/emotions.**

**In short, it affects the tributes at different stages, the first ever being that of Ransom (remember his sudden lust for killing?). If they are relatively calm and collected, it'll take longer. If something is affecting them - emotions running high, vulnerability, a loss of an ally, overwhelming and commitment - then the injection targets quicker.**

**Of course, there's another little side bit to the injection that sways the animals... pheromones! Now the storm and weather has made everything wet - heightening smells, in case you didn't know! - the animals are more subjectable to the pheromones and smells in the air, meaning that the animal instinct in them has also been heightened (thus the red eyes and sudden, crazed attacks!).**

**Any questions on above, please don't hesitate to ask me.**

**Ugh. Done. See you guys whenever for the next chapter!**


	16. Fix You

**Fix You.**

_Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones._

* * *

**Percival Harlin, District Four Male.**

* * *

I try to stop the bleeding by placing my hand over the hole on my upper cheek. Luckily, I can't feel no pain, otherwise I'd be hunting down District Ten like she was the only tribute left. She is, so far, the only one to actually hurt me. It's not acceptable. I swallow thickly and pull my hand away, stained red. It won't stop. I begin to crawl on my knees towards the bushes, a visible puddle drawing me in. I cup my hands and bring the water towards my face, washing it over me.

She's dead. When I find her, she won't survive. I'll fight until I can't breathe anymore and District Ten will not survive. I don't do too well when I'm beat.

The water is cold and my teeth chatter, but I bring more and more. It's dirty - a muddy brown colour - but I don't care. I'll probably get an infection but again, I don't care. It's not like I can feel anything.

I slip my eyes close and remember all the children in District Four that were terrified of me. I would brag about it, show them that I couldn't feel a thing, and it was a superior thing. They would never expected that me, Percival, was something different. I'm human, but the little kids didn't need to know that. They just needed to watch the blood drip from my arm and my face just neutral. I even dared a few to try it, telling my "secret" into ignoring the pain. Needless to say, they cried and I told them that they just weren't special enough.

I miss District Four. I miss my reputation.

Anger floods my veins. If they're watching, they would've seen me fall to a peasant and, even worse, a female. I'm not sexist, but for me, holding my reputation is important and being beat isn't an option. All the little children will be thinking of me, watching me. I can't lose. I scream, pounding my fist into the puddle over and over again. They've seen me crumble; my reputation is about to be broke.

I'll hunt her. I'll kill her the best way I know possible - like Odette.

I finger the silver strip of net from my boot. I'll wrap this around her tiny, fair neck and then tug until it turns blue. I might even crush her skull underneath my boot, all whilst she can't breathe. I'm not sadistic but I guess this place just changes people. The anger stays around and I punch the ground again, not surprised that my hand looks almost blue. It doesn't matter; it'll be like war wounds that'll make me seem distinguished. If anything, it'll be a driving force behind my hunt... if I can make myself get up.

I'm not in pain but for some reason, I just want to sit here. Sit here and let everything else sink in.

Have I made any wrong moves? I don't think. Of course not, I've done everything right.

I haven't had any sponsors though. My eyebrows furrow and I lean down, wetting my fingertips and then painting on my face, cleaning the blood. No-one has sponsored me. Then again, Creek or River could simply be not spending the money. Of course they'd be pissed about Odette, but it's not like they get on or anything. Talk about hypocritical. But still, I expected something, even if it was food. They've sent me nothing and the anger for them is beyond belief.

I'd like to know whether Creek or River can feel pain. I'm sure that when I go back, I'll test that theory, just to see. That'll teach them to not lose faith in me. I'm beyond capable, they just don't want to do it. Jealousy, that's what it is. They're jealous that I might become more popular than the pair of them combined. Their relationship is well-known, but simply for being a failure. I'll walk over them like nothing, become the top dog in District Four... except Annie, of course, but who cares about her?

Screw it.

I allow the darkness and black fire inside to consume me. There's no turning back. I don't regret my choices, but if I did, well, I guess there's no point. It's worked so well as far as I can tell. I planted Anubis into the Career alliance to stir it up and split the group. Then, I took out Odette, simply because she was my toy. Her death was completely at the time, but still, I expected her to not be involved and it worked out perfectly. Whilst I escaped, the Careers imploded, taking each other out whilst I walked away unharmed and smiling. I smile wickedly, still washing my face. I think back to the interviews, the scores, trying to find her name.

Serena.

It hits me so fast that I just laugh out loud, not even caring that the animals have become fucking insane and feral, probably hunting me down. Serena. Serena the new toy. I'll find her eventually, when I've gained back my energy, of course. I don't even have a weapon. My mood sours quickly. Without a weapon, I'll have to sneak up on her. Come up from behind with the silver net and just strangle her until there's nothing left. Yeah, that's the only option. I don't even know my way back to the Cornucopia, so I'm on my own with my hands, feet and net at my disposable.

"I'm coming for you, Serena," I say aloud. "I'm coming for you and you won't even realise until you're dead. You're in for a treat, girly."

* * *

**Bracken Mathis, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

This is it.

I look at the tree, the bark so perfect and smooth. With the knife in hand, I move over and begin to dig, carving the first initial of my name. They'll never forget me; the boy who never played by their rules. The boy who went out of his way to ensure that he would be remembered but for all the wrong things. I don't expect to be treated like a Victor and if I had won - even though I have no plans to do so - they would've probably killed me in the night, a bullet through my brain. I'm too much of a liability, I remember Bay saying it once.

The second letter is almost perfected and I start the next.

I've always wondered what happened to arenas after they were done. Do they destroy and rebuild? I hope some tales in District Eleven where many Capitol citizens paid to visit the arena, just to see where their favourites had died. They might not clean up the blood, a constant reminder that someone had died right there, under the guidance of a Gamemaker who smirked the entire time. My blood won't be on the ground though. It'll be in the water.

I start the next letter, my mind thinking back to the little District Seven girl. She's still alive, I'm still thankful for that. Serena too. Me and her, we're the last outer districts left. Ezra and Fay were killed in the bloodbath, whilst Quinlan, Colton and Lena followed almost straight after. Katey lasted long, but she's dead now. We're the only ones left to represent the districts most persecuted by the Capitol and the wicked ice queen herself.

Serena can do it. If not her, the little girl, because she deserves her life. I don't deserve it cause I don't want it.

I don't want to live under the thumb, surrounded by poverty and starving children and public whippings. I can't handle it. I might be strong, I might try my hardest to put on a cocky persona, but I can't handle it. I can't watch another child die because of the conditions. I can't watch another mother take a beating and whipping, just to spare her young children who stole food to quench his everlasting hunger.

They have money, they have power, yet they can't let the districts live in remote conditions.

I finish my first name and begin my second. I'm not Eleven or the District Eleven boy. I'm not the "Wild Child". I'm Bracken Mathis.

I turn around to face the lake I found. Large, hulking animals are nearby, but they aren't acting the same. I saw them last time and they were happy, serene, peaceful. Now they stomp and run, feral and wild because something has happened after the storm. Something is happening and I don't want to see the outcome, the pain, the deaths. I've seen too many. I hold back the choking cry forming in my throat and take a step towards the crystalline water.

This is it. They've broke me. I was always planning to die, planning to kill myself, but they've finally done it. The Capitol, the wicked witch, they've drove me to this. They made me live in poor conditions, tried to fatten me up like an animal before sending me to the slaughter for their sick entertainment. Everything in the name of entertainment and politics. I raise the knife high into the sky, flashing the light against the silver. Let the cameras see it. Let them know what I'm about to do.

I smirk as I pull the tan top over my head, rubbing it in my wet face before throwing it to the ground in a brown heap. Wild boy, am I? They want their rebellious teen, then they got this. I can only imagine how many TV sets around Panem are turning up, cameras avoiding what I'm doing; breaking their beloved rules. The shorts come down next, down to my ankles before I kick them off my boots. The underwear is tight but it'll do; nudity isn't my thing. I sit down with a thump, realising how solid my body is. Heavy hurt and all that. I undo the laces and slip them off alongside my socks.

I'll go back to my life. Back to my roots. Many days, my parents couldn't even afford clothes for me. I spent a lot of time at home, a blanket wrapped around me because that's all I had.

When I stand up, my legs are like gelatin, my hands shaking and my heart thumping. I can feel blood building in my ears, behind my eyes, swelling me up like a balloon. I step forward and the freezing cold water laps over my feet. I shiver, jamming my teeth shut on my tongue, just to handle it. I begin to take slow steps, water rising on my body whilst I fall lower and lower into the lake. The water reaches my shoulders and I take a deep breath, forcing myself under until I can see nothing but murky waters, plants at the bottom. I hold my breath for a long time, before opening up and swallowing as much as I can. My lungs are burning but I can't bring myself to care. I push myself up to emerge, the dreaded feeling overwhelming me.

The knife. I look at it again, the silver almost mocking me. I gently place it against my wrist, my breath stuttering. No more life. No more pain. No more Bracken.

I drag it across slow and hard, a scream locking itself in my throat and tears peppering my eyes. I clench down on my tongue and drag it harsher, deeper, slower. The pain runs through my body like fire licking away at a body, the tears now silently streaming. I lift it off, experimentally looking at the blood pouring down. I quickly dunk it in the water - to remove the liquid - before shakily gripping the knife. I repeat the process on my other hand, only this time, the scream breaks free and I let it out, straight to the sky. The cameras will be watching now. Watching my pain with glossy eyes and devilish smiles. No-one will cry for me; they'll cheer.

With both hands bloody, the knife falls limply from my hand, falling underneath the small ripples. My body is vibrating and hurting. My eyes are blacking out, the world tugging at the ends of my vision whilst the rest is fuzzy. With my last bit of effort, I force my wrists underneath the water. The water will pull the blood out of me quicker.

I finally let go, falling back and letting the water cradle me. It reminds me of the day when my mother did, telling me that things would get better. I cried and cried like the little child was.

It did get better, Mom.

I don't have to live it no more.

My eyes slip close, heavy and stinging. I can feel my heart growing slower and slower. I smile, the salty tears mixing with the water underneath me. There's a muted noise from somewhere, but I'm not bothered. I'm... I'm at peace.

* * *

**Laurel Aston, District Seven Female.**

* * *

"Terris," I mumble, the boy muttering to himself. "Terris are you okay?"

He spins around, eyes flared and hardened. "I'm fine."

"You don't..." I stop myself and swallow hard. Terris isn't fine; he's flipping back and forth from vulnerability to this hard attitude that frankly terrifies me. He wants me to stay and I want to stay, but how long can I go with pretending that I'm not scared the next moment could be my last? I used to be so peppy and full of life, and everything has been drained from me. I used to be a little girl. "Terris, where are we heading?"

He stops abruptly and turns around. There's a glint of darkness in his eyes that sends chills down my spine, but he doesn't say anything. He shakily pulls the zip open and dips his hand in, bringing forth one of his little explosives. This is it. This is where he'll kill me. My heart freezes and I will myself to move, but I can't, I can't just run. Terris wanted me to stay. Somehow, I wanted the same. Nova died and he's all I have left and likewise for him. He holds it in his hand without moving his eyes from me.

Then he throws it.

I almost cry, but I clamp a hand over my mouth. It flies overhead and I want to scream again, but then I realise, he wasn't aiming for me. There's a small, audible ticking sound and I shakily walk towards him, his eyes locked on me. Out of nowhere, it's explodes, sending ripples and a stream of sand towards us. Taking the scarf, I pull it over my eyes as it hits us, my scream finally letting loose and being lost in the noise.

When it comes down, I pull my scarf and look back at Terris. Silent tears stream his face. He truly is broken. They've... they've really destroyed his mind and mannerisms. He could've killed me but he didn't. Maybe he can fight it?

"Terris..." I say gently, watching a tear slip off my nose. When did I start crying? I don't remember, but my cheeks are wet and burning, eyelashes holding onto the tears like my attempts at holding everything else together. "T-T-"

"Laurel." he croaks.

I quickly move forward and embrace him without a second thought. He might be breaking down, he might be hurting, but this is Terris and whilst I'm almost sure he doesn't like me that most and we're not that close, he looks like a kid, like me, that just loves hugs. He doesn't respond but that's okay. I grip harder, allowing my body to rack with my own sobs. Terris soon joins and we just break down, falling to our knees. The grass surrounds us and animals cry but that's okay, because we're making progress. My heart sinks when I realise that we're making progress just as everything could end, when someone will die soon.

A noise cuts through the air and I immediately tighten my lock on Terris. The noise happens again and I turn around, a large creature walking towards us with it's mouth open.

"Te-erris..." I sob, salty tears spilling into my mouth as I look at the monster's black and glossy fur. Terris begins to move slowly, the animal coming to a stop. It's eyes are bright red, black veins breaking through the colour. Terris doesn't seem to notice, his back towards the creature. If it attacks, then... then Terris will get hurt first. A part of me thinks that'll be a good idea, but it's Terris...

Terris suddenly forces himself out of my arms and spins around, a flash of metal passing my view again. He launches the explosive towards the creature and the animal doesn't have time to move. Terris hasn't something in his hands, and with his vibrating thumb, he presses it. The explosive detonates in the monster's face.

But it's close to us.

I feel the heat in the air as I'm pushed towards the ground, Terris by my side as something wet splashes us. I can't look at me and everything feels so hot, like someone is directly putting me underneath a hot plate. I can't hear anything and it feels like I'm underwater. I swallow, forcing myself to roll over, just to face Terris. His face is black and grey, smeared by smoke or something. My eyelids are suddenly heavy and I stare at him harder. He's unconscious. I push a weak hand out and try to shake him, but it drops before it touches him.

My lips part to scream his name but I can't breathe, my throat feeling clogged up and breathy. I don't feel injured. I don't feel anything except for a wheezy cough.

The blackness soon takes over my eyes but I force myself to stay awake, willing myself to think of Terris and surviving this. Terris begins to stir back, his eyes slipping open. I'd breathe a sigh of relief if I could. He slowly tilts his head towards me, his eyes almost clouded. Is something wrong?

"L-Laurel," he begins, lines of his pale skin breaking through the blackened face. "A-Are yo-ou okay?"

I manage to nod, but there's a thought lingering in my mind. That animal could've killed him and it'd be like Nova all over again, helpless as an animal sinks their teeth into our naked flesh. I don't want that. I don't want to be ripped to shreds by an animal's claw or jaw. I don't want to die, but if I had to, I'd rather die quick and painless rather than being tortured and ripped apart. Nova's death will always be on my mind. I can't go that way. Terris notices something is wrong and continues to look at me with wavering eyes, smoke drifting upwards. It's only then do I realise the chunks of meat around us, blood showering the ground.

"Kill m-me," I stutter and Terris' eyes widen. "I-If I g-get injured, k-kill me-e. Don't let m-me s-suffer."

Deep down in my heart, I know that's what I want. I don't want to die, of course not, but Terris understands. I want to die as myself, not screaming and crying as something rips me apart or anything. He nods weakly and I force a smile on my pained face, unable to stop the tears from flowing freely.

I'm not the same anymore. But that's okay, because everyone changes. Sometimes it's for the better and sometimes it's for the worst.

* * *

**Kit Felix, District One Male.**

* * *

The explosion catches me off-guard and I look around. Where'd that come from? If it's another ploy from the Gamemakers, well, that just isn't fair. I can't be dealing with another surprise. Each time I feel safe, something rips that away. I've managed to avoid everything else since Fawn's death, but the more I think about it, the more it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I just want to go home.

I just want to fly.

I've always wanted to be able to fly. It's a ridiculous dream - something only a child could come up with - but it's true. The idea of being able to soar across the sky like the birds that sometimes pass over... it fills me with glee. I never got to share my dream with anyone. I wanted to tell Fawn... but she's gone. I glance up to the sky, almost hoping for something to happen, but it doesn't. She's gone, been gone for a while, and Minerva is to blame. If she isn't dead, she can still die at my hands. I've never been vengeful; I was kind and considerate, but she chose to make an enemy of Fawn and I for no reason. We would've had to split, but she made it worse.

It all happened when I went on a business trip with my father to the Capitol. I was young, but I remember it all, particularly the carnival. It was for a day, some entertainment between the Victor's Tour and the next Hunger Games, but we went. The way they flew across the sky so graceful and effortless, it drew me in. I started gymnastics when I returned, working harder and harder to push myself, to help me soar like the others did. It's why I'm injured; years of training has made my joints weak. I can't fly as well anymore. I can't even do a flip anymore with white hot fire burning through my veins.

That's why I want to win. Winning provides me with money and the money can pay for an operation. An operation that'll fix me and allow me to do the one thing in the world that makes me happy.

A whining sound snaps me back around. I glance up at the bright sky, a bird flying over head and sending nostalgia through my body. A whining sound again and I clench my fists, looking out from the bushes into the open plains. I heard a cannon earlier. I can only hope it's Minerva.

The anthem suddenly blares and catches me off-guard. I fall down to the floor and take a deep breath, my body aching and drumming. Only one cannon from the last time I saw the seal and the tributes. Who is it? I doubt it's Minerva.

When I see the boy from District Eleven, I let out a sad sigh. It's not her. I'm stuck between happy and sad. With seven tributes left, the odds are slowly falling out of my favour.

My dream is escaping from me.

Percival, Minerva and the boy from District Six are the biggest competitors. Then, the girl from District Ten is still alive, and I know she's good at whatever she does. Her ally died but she didn't, so unless she killed her, she was able to fight off the attack. My heart hiccups. Oh, the two little kids from District Three and District Seven. They've lasted longer than anyone could have expected; they should be beyond proud of themselves.

I clench and unclench my fists as the pain begins to darken my eyes. I hold back the tears as it rides through my body, thumping in my ears.

There's something else though, something darker. It is like it's eating away at my heart. I can feel it, deep down, making me feel sick and tired, but also filling me with a dark fire that I never knew I had. I'm not evil, am I? I haven't actually made a kill to feel guilty about. Killing Anubis was nothing, he deserved it. Not only did he kill Ransom but he injured Fawn before Minerva killed her. It was his fault that everything had happened. He turned Minerva against us, whispering in her ear to encourage her. She probably wouldn't have acted anything out since she would have been alone.

I stand back up, the dark edge still there but the pain having vanished. That's the only positive side of whatever is happening - it's helping me forget the pain.

I have a dream to accomplish. I need to fly. I'm fly for myself and Fawn. Her name only hollows my heart, but I can't think like that since I always knew this would be what would happen.

My heart freezes when the whining sound happens again. I turn around, hearing it louder and louder. It's almost like someone is in pain. The bushes are thick and the foliage is like rubber, but I can make out a figure that looks familiar... I step closer, my heart thumping but the curiosity drawing me in like a moth to a flame. That's when my heart stops and I sloppily grab the knife tucked in my boot, causing the figure to stir and turn to face me.

"Percival." I murmur.

"Flying squirrel," he breathes, half of his face stained from blood. "So we finally get the chance to duel."

* * *

******Fix You by Coldplay.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Bracken Mathis, District Eleven.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Sell, Bracken was one-of-a-kind, a rebel with a difference. I truly loved him and I went by your dream of having him become naked at some point ;) He will be missed beyond belief!**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Who do you want to see in the final three? (Kit, Minerva, Terris, Percival, Theon, Laurel and Serena).**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**I know this is anticlimactic after how we left Minerva. However, it wasn't meant to be like a cliffhanger? It was just to show the change in everything now... like Terris losing the plot very slowly.**

**It's moving much more slow-paced than I wanted. Well, on a brighter note, there is only three more Games chapters and then the epilogue for our Victor! So, basically, four chapters and then Wild One is completed!**

**Sorry for the delay as well. I was too busy focusing on Claustrophobia... *whistles innocently***

**I can, however, promise that the next chapter will be sooner than you lot expect and for what I have planned, it'll be the most intense, hopefully tearful chapter yet.**


	17. Blood Bank

**Blood Bank.**

_It fucks with your honor and teases with your head._

* * *

**Percival Harlin, District Four Male.**

* * *

Kit seems almost shaken. It's amusing, actually, considering this is the same boy that showed a minute amount of bravery back in the Capitol. It's amazing how much an arena can affect the... weak.

"What's wrong, Kit, scared?" I tease, shaking to stand up. I feel as pathetic as he looks.

Kit's knife wobbles in his hand, and I just know that the weapon isn't his strongest. He was more for hand-to-hand combat, I think bitterly, and of course I'm the one without the weapon. Technically, Kit should just hand me the knife, so I can have what I'm best at and he's left with what he's best at. Of course he wouldn't; Kit has never been one to be understanding. I stare Kit down, locking our eyes.

"Someone looks injured," he speaks confidently despite the uncertainty in his eyes. I can practically smell the fear radiating off of him. "Are you sure you don't want a bandage?"

I smirk. "Is this some ploy to lure me in a false sense of security?" I laugh, the feeling welling in my chest like a tight bubble. "Cut the crap, Kit, I thought you were better than this."

I watch the lump in his throat bob up and down. It's almost enticing, in a sickening sense, the way I could drag that knife in his hand across his throat. I've never been this sadistic before, but the dark, swelling orb in my chest is only increasing and encouraging me. I could do it, but I'd have to get the knife out of his hand. It'd be tough at the very least; Kit was one of the more capable Careers in our alliance. In fact, thinking of it, me, Kit and Minerva were the only capable ones, and we're all still alive. It's hilarious to think about.

"I don't care what you think of me," Kit suddenly says, causing my eyebrows to rise in surprise. It makes the stained blood on my face crack. "I'm the uninjured one here, not you. That cut looks nasty," he adds with a cold tone. "Hate for it to become infected."

"How charming of you. Always was the innocent one, flying squirrel."

I wonder if Kit is scared? I doubt it. Compared to the others who might be scared, I know for a fact that Kit can see sense. As much as he'd hate to admit it, Kit is more of a Career than the others were. If he's killed already, I doubt he felt guilt. Kit might be all sugary sweet, but each Career holds a darkened edge that they want to hide, or, in some cases, put it on show with lights and glitter. I flex my fingers and brace myself for what might come. Kit's knife is as unsure about what it's doing as he is.

"Guess we aren't talking this out?" I grin sarcastically, knowing that one will die, right here and now.

"Guess not."

With that, Kit lunges forward, knife first. The silver blade cuts through the air towards my upper chest and I throw myself backwards, just missing the blade. I bring the heel of my hand towards his wrist, forcing his fingers to release the knife. It falls to the soggy floor beneath as I quickly jerk out my knee. Kit is as good at this at me, maybe more, since he manages to tap one side of my knee with his palm to force the blow to the side. It confuses me for a second and Kit's clenched fist sails towards my face. It connects to my nose with a squelch that makes my stomach flip. I stagger back, white stars exploding in my vision. Kit, being the squirrel I dubbed him, is on me in seconds, another fist to my stomach and another to the side of my face.

He relentlessly slams his fist and palms into me, forcing me back against the shrubs. Fuck! The anger boils in me as Kit so easily overpowers me. I've never, ever done well with people overpowering - I didn't even allow Minerva to do it during that first day of training. I see white for a moment, able to catch Kit's next flying fist. He gasps, sweat building on his forehead, and I clench my fingers. I hear the sound of his fingers cracking - not breaking, just cracking - and Kit's face crumbles in pain. He squirms but I hold the grip almost iron-like.

I don't expect his leg to fly out though, almost straight up. It lands on my hip and for a moment I can only think of how Kit can bend like that, but the next kick quickly chases it and whilst I don't feel the pain, it makes me stutter in my grip. I lose his hand and fall backwards, tripping on something large. I fall down hard, wind knocked from my lungs. It burns; I gasp for some air but Kit is quickly on my stomach, sending a flurry of hits to my face. The stars reappear as Kit manages to overpower me in the one thing that he can do most damage in; fighting hand-to-hand.

For a moment, it could end. My life could literally flash before my eyes. There's no pain - of course there isn't - but I can't stop the white stars from exploding in my vision.

The knife is nearby, I remember that. I would smile if I could, able to avoid the next punch, Kit's fist slamming into the wet ground. He tries to compose himself but I quickly kick him off, blood slowly replacing the stars, kinda like being underwater back in District Four. I scramble in the dirt for the knife. Kit's hand clamps around my ankle but I blindly kick out, landing against something that crunches. Kit screams brokenly and I grin, curling my fingers around the knife and jumping up onto my feet.

"I've always hated animals." I sneer.

* * *

**Kit Felix, District One Male.**

* * *

The world blurs at the edges, a white hot pain just shooting through my body and never ending. A sticky, warm sensation covers my face. My fingers are shaking and that's one of the only things I can gather back. I hear Percival's breath, too, shaking and wrecked. He's tired but here I was, alongside most of the Careers, thinking that he was all machine and no flesh. Turns out he's as human as the rest of us. I blink a few times, trying to rid myself of the wavering colours.

"I've always hated animals." Percival sneers, his words like venom.

Coppery blood fills in my mouth, spreading on my lips. I spit, but it's like there are cottonballs just stuffed underneath my tongue, beneath my teeth, suffocating me. I cough and splutter, Percival's footsteps close to my ears.

My nose is broke, I just know it. The ripping fire won't stop, the blood having to have come from somewhere. I dig my hands into the mud to try and stay focus.

"Y-Y-You won't w-win," I stammer, feeling the red liquid spill from my mouth. "D-Demons n-never win."

"Demons?" Percival replies. His voice is not as strong anymore. He was injured before, surely he should be a lot worse now? I know I done damage; my knuckles are aching from the punches. "Who said I was evil? I think you have me mistaken with the monsters underneath your bed."

I swallow thickly, the sour taste travelling down my throat, almost making me gag. I can still feel my fingers shaking. I don't respond, I can't respond, but I know that it'd take some more to kill him. I can't run now; not only would I look a coward, but I'd have to face him eventually. He's almost unstoppable.

I go to pull myself up, but Percival's boot flies straight into my stomach, sending me back to the ground.

"Don't bother moving," his voice is but a harsh whisper. "I'll make it quick."

He has my knife, I just know it. If I can knock it from his hands into the bushes, he'd be defenseless. As strong as he is, he can't beat me through fighting alone. Then again, neither can I. I can't exactly snap his neck. I go to lift myself up again, limbs crying in pain from exhaustion and hits, before he kicks me down again, like a wounded animal. How can I get away? I curl my fingers around the dirt again. He bends over, his hot breath ghosting over my neck. I expected this; Percival would want to taunt me. I manage to connect my brain and hand together, sending the dirt covered fist upwards into his face. I hit something and Percival shouts for a moment. Willing myself to move, I roll over, ignoring the pain and getting myself to my feet. Percival is crazily wiping at his eyes, blood and dirt smeared all over his face. I glance over his hands. The knife!

With my head spinning, I sprint forward, using the heel of my palm to disarm his once more. The dagger flies downwards and I send a fist into his stomach, causing Percival to move his hands from his face. One of his eyelids are closed. I use the momentum and adrenaline to push a knuckle outwards, sending it straight into his other eye. He doesn't scream again and for a moment, I wonder if Percival really is a machine or not. I snap back to reality when the numbing sensation reaches my limbs like normal. It sets me back, making me see stars, causing the images in front to distort.

The minor setback allows Percival to grab hold of my wrist, trying to twist. I fight it as much as possible, the adrenaline rushing back to me like the blood in my veins. I jet my boot out into his knee, making him sway, but the lock is jammed.

"Don't fight it," Percival grits out, his fingernails cutting into my wrist. I can see the blood pooling over his fingers. I grit my teeth and send another kick to his knee. "You're as good as dead."

"As long as I breathe, I'm alive." I spit back, kicking again, only this time, I curve my boot to get the other side of the same knee. He doesn't expect it and the grip loosens, allowing me to use my other hand to grab one of his fingers, snapping it back. I hear the crack but it doesn't faze Percival. He buckles, though, falling slightly to the side as I attempt to take him down to the floor again. He's most vulnerable down there; it also happens to be the best place for me to strike. Whilst I did gymnastics, I also studied wrestling. If I take him down, I can finish him easily.

I manage to kick him and bring him down with a hard thud. He gasps for a moment. I'm on him almost instantly, just like before, knees either side of his slender chest. The numbing sensation begins to cloud my mind and eyes, but I still send the fist into his closed eye. It's welling up, almost black. I punch it again as Percival squirms. I have lower and upper body strength, so I pin him easily, using my other hand to lock around his wrist, pinning that down to the mud. His other hand has the broken finger on, so it's kinda useless. How can he not be crying or in pain?

I send another fist into his face. The hit makes my knuckles ache, sending pain to my eyes. The sun suddenly seems much more brighter and hot. The rays hit the knife, making the silver almost shimmer. I need to finish this. I strain myself, Percival growing weak underneath, his body not squirming as much. I manage to curl my fingers around the object and bring it forward.

My heart stills; Percival is grinning, blood staining his teeth.

The pain hits me full blown this time, making me nauseous. My mind spins and Percival regains the energy to flip me, my back landing against the ground, knocking the air from my lungs. It burns. It burns. My fingers lose their grip. The knife falls, but then, Percival is over me and the silver shines mockingly again.

"Say goodnight squirrel," he grins a bloody smile. "Say hello to Fawn for me."

The knife comes down. There's no pain, just a dull, black thud that rolls through my body. My eyes are suddenly heavy, the white stars that exploded only a moment ago now dying out. My breath shakes until I don't even know if I'm breathing anymore. The muted cannon sounds, and I fall into the warm hold of death.

* * *

**Terris Avar, District Three Male.**

* * *

The cannon makes Laurel scream in the air, her eyes wide and terrified. She looks so young. An icy claw drags down my spine and suddenly, Laurel looks appealing. Her eyes wide and tearful, begging for her life. Tiny, brown hair shaken from her pigtails, a picturesque scene of a girl about to die. My fingers flex, yearning for the bombs located in my backpack. I could pull it out, turn the switch, throw it in Laurel's lap and be running before she even knew the explosion was coming.

I was close to doing it before. Right up until the last moment, I was set on blowing her to pieces. Then the blackness disappeared and Laurel radiated, a beacon of light within the darkness. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill her. The animal came and the instinct kicked back in; if I couldn't kill Laurel, I was going to kill something.

I gasp, letting out a broken cry. Laurel turns to me with those wide, brown eyes, innocence swimming. The sight makes me want to cry bitter tears, my whole body shaking violently. Laurel's face breaks and she leans across the gap, wrapping me in another comforting hug that I just cannot return. I can't hug her knowing the thoughts that are rampaging through my mind, painting the pictures with her blood. I can't give her the same comfort that she can give me, no matter how selfish it sounds.

"Terris, w-who do you think i-it was?" Laurel stutters, eyes flicking to the sky and then to me.

I know who is left, but it's hard to think who might've died. With three Careers and two older tributes left, it's hard to imagine any of them dying. We're the more likely candidates, yet we've surpassed all expectations. I wonder how we look to the Capitol? Probably just fodder for the finale. The Careers would be able to kill us so easily. Except, I have bombs and Laurel still technically can work Nova's poisons. We could do this...

"An outer tribute," I decide, watching Laurel's face crumble again, tears on the verge of breaking free. "Either the boy from District Six, or the girl from District Ten," I pause, collecting my thoughts. "The girl is more likely; she lost her ally not long ago. The boy has always been on his own since the bloodbath."

Laurel was on her own from the start, until she met me and Nova. I think back to that day easily. If she avoided us, Nova wouldn't have died, I wouldn't be like this, and Laurel would hopefully be dead. Everything would be right with the world. I hold that resentment against her; but is it the darkness playing tricks on my mind or is it actually my thoughts?

But I need Laurel. I've needed her ever since Nova died. I've been breaking apart so easily, she's all I have left to keep rooted to sanity.

The sound of an animal's snarl makes Laurel jump again, just like the cannon. She looks at me with glassy eyes.

"Shall we leave?" I suggest.

Laurel nods hurriedly. "I want to get out of here," she mumbles. "Quickly."

I stand up, grabbing the backpack. Laurel grabs her own and pats her scarf down. Quickly, we begin to move through the battered grass, wet tips brushing against our legs. It tickles and I want to laugh - something I would've done on the rare occasions it rained in District Three - but it feels almost stupid. This isn't a place to laugh. It's not even a place to live. We hastily make our retreat towards the bushes, despite my inner protests. Animals are more likely to be in there than the open. At least out there we could see everything. The bushes are thick and full of foliage, perfect for hiding both us and any kind of animals. I can feel my heart thumping as the animal's snarl drifts to our ears once more. The faint buzz hits and causes me to wince, the dark corner of my brain slowly taking over once more. I blink a few times, trying to drain the processing thoughts.

The bush shakes violently.

The scream seems to almost come from the distance.

I snap back, reality replaying. My eyes widen as I see Laurel face down on the floor, wiggling. Behind her, clamped to her ankle, is a large black feline. Laurel screams, but there's no tears. My mind whirls, pushing down the growing abyss inside. I hastily get to my feet, backpack across my shoulder. Laurel screams again and I throw myself forward, grabbing onto her wrists. My mind briefly flashes to Laurel and I trying to save Nova. I feel sick to my stomach. I pull hard, whispering encouragement to myself, Laurel screaming and all the while, the animal doesn't look up.

Laurel shifts away. I get dragged along, my fingers trying to lock with hers. She's crying now, red faced. She screams, bloodshot eyes pleading. For some reason, my grip is growing weak. I swallow thickly as the animal drags her across the ground again.

"No!" I scream, pulling with all my might. I hear a pop come from my shoulder and try to ignore the white hot pain, the emotions holding me together.

"T-Terris!" she cries. The animal drags her dramatically again, skin burning against mud. The animal's hungry growl breaks the crying and thudding in my skull. I force my eyes onto Laurel, using her light to help me overcome what is happening. She can give me the strength I need. Instead, she's broken. A burned out light. Her tears have slowed down, pink skin turning a sickly white. Her lips are turning a bluish colour. I break out a choked sob as I tug even harder, fingers aching but the desire stronger.

My sweat makes the grip tough. Her small hand slips from mine. Laurel's lips part to scream, but no sound. The animal can pull harder now and begins to drag her back. She squirms and twists, but she's as good as dead. My heart thuds hard against my ribcage as I force myself onto my knees. I want to run. I will myself to run. Yet, the icy claw seems to have me pinned to the soft ground. She's gone.

Her words flash across my mind in red neon lights. She didn't want to die like Nova did.

My fingers numbly grab for the explosive. I don't even know it's in my hand until I'm pulling it back to throw. It sails through the air, straight for Laurel and the beast. The ticking sound seems almost loud against the doomed silence.

_BOOM._

Hot wind hits my face, forcing me onto my back. My eyelids slip closed, the darkness smothering me like a tidal wave. Laurel's cannon seems almost like a tiny whistle in the wind. I feel the tears build up behind my eyes, breaking free and rolling down the side of my face. I can't move. I just lie here and cry.

This is it. I've truly become a monster. How further downhill can I be thrown?

* * *

**Minerva Li, District Two Female.**

* * *

Two cannons within the span of a few minutes. I gingerly touch the cut that goes from underneath my eye and straight to my chin. I wince, bringing back red-tipped fingers. My whole body convulses, but no tears come. I don't cry; I'm not made to cry. I'm a fighter, a warrior, a human who has to focus on the future and not the sad present. I pull the scythe around until it sits by my thigh.

The anthem blares and I look to the sky. I gulp, a little conflicted on what I want to see.

It'd be nice if Kit and Percival were dead. I smirk, crossing my fingers almost mockingly. It'd be hilarious to know I outlasted Kit, the so-called prodigy that was the heartful Career. He was as murderous as the rest of us. When I see his face first, I let out a contained laugh, bouncing into the air. It's the only thing to really bring me joy. The animals managed to strip me of my scarf, my backpack, my sanity. I'm paranoid now, thinking each turn results in being prey to a pack of rabid animals.

The little girl from District Seven is next. She should be proud; if she ran into any Careers, she would have been killed almost instantly. She outlasted Fawn, Odette, Ransom and Anubis. Four Careers dead and she survived. How old was she? Young. A lot young. Her rosy cheeks and tiny pigtails speak volumes. The seal vanishes and the sky returns to a false, peaceful blue. A waver of static breaks it. I quickly head for the nearest acacia tree, desperate for shade.

Gregor Flack's voice quickly enters the air and I smile. Hope you're proud, Dad, I done a lot better than you could of.

_"Well done to the remaining tributes. For your participation, we are now holding a feast. Each of you needs something, wants something, and at the crack of dawn, it will be within a backpack marked with your district number by the Cornucopia. Think about it, tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor."_

The feast is where most tributes die.

Me, Percival, District Three, District Six and District Ten. Four decent competitors and a little child. Then again, lasting this long, he must hold some importance and strength. Same for the little girl. Maybe their faith took them this far? I almost laugh at the comment, but the bubble in my chest only hurts my ribs. In fact, everything hurts. Being attacked by a pack was a cheap trick by the Gamemakers. Each animal took their turn, like the civil beasts that they clearly are, before attempting to savage me. I killed each one, leaving me with the leader. He was the toughest, much larger and stronger. I had to literally hack him to death in order to continue my life.

Now, all I have to do is do the same to Percival. God, I hope he's injured beyond belief. I grind my teeth together. Frankly, I'd rather him weak. He was a tough opponent in training and that was just training. Out here, winning means living. He'll be even tougher to destroy. I might have to chop him up and spread his body parts around the arena, just to stop him from growing back together, I muse.

The kid should be easy. The other two, well, they are capable, strong enough, resilient clearly, so that makes some fun people to try and beat. I even look forward to some competition that I can actually beat without worries.

Decided, I begin to head the way I think the Cornucopia was. It's been a long time now, I can't remember exactly. The sweat builds on my forehead but I have to keep moving, trudging through the yellow grass. With no backpack and no water, the animals really have screwed me over. My shoulder hurts, my stomach is in knots and my legs are aching, tired, almost like gelatin. I need to rest before the fight. The feast probably won't start until tomorrow anyway... whenever tomorrow actually is.

The hill suddenly comes into view, yellow grass and green shubbery ascending towards the rockery. I start to pump my legs, ignoring the pain. As I reach the top, I stare down at the twenty-four plates and shimmering golden horn. Biting my lip, I begin to descend, placing my footing right. My breaths are hot and hard, like my chest is constricting.

"I've always wanted to be slimmer," I joke, trying to lighten myself up before the big finale comes. This is the moment I actually trained for. "This better be worth it otherwise I got screwed over."

I sit down at the edge of the Cornucopia, covered by the shade. I lean the scythe up against the golden wall, easy enough to grab once they come pouring in. This would be the moment my father would've dreamed of. I hope I made him proud by getting this far; that should matter, right?

Not that win, but that I tried? Of course I want to win - I will win - but I want him to be proud nonetheless.

Guess things are ready to play out after all then. I'm as ready as I'll ever be.

* * *

******Blood Bank by Bon Iver.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Kit Felix, District One.**

******Laurel Aston, District Seven.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Hannah, Kit was great. I loved his child-like qualities. He'll be missed!**

**Olive, Laurel was beyond amazing. I loved her as much as I loved Addilyn and Maybelle and Noelle and even Brigan. Another perfect little from you! She died the way she wanted; she died before it consumed her too much.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Two more deaths. One more chapter before the finale. Place your beats on who you want and think!**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**I promised emotion and that kinda escaped me. I got a little too engrossed with Percival and Kit's fight. I hope it was dramatic enough! It's hard to convey sad emotions through tributes that are hardening because of the injection.**

**Two more chapters. Legit. Next chapter, two more deaths, and then the finale. After that, one more chapter dedicated to our Victor!**

**I don't have much to say... I actually enjoyed writing this chapter, which is something that I felt has been lacking from Wild One for a while now.**

**This is up for the people I promised that I would update Wild One before Claustrophobia!**


	18. Famous Last Words

**Famous Last Words.**

_Well, is it hard understanding that I'm incomplete?_

* * *

**Terris Avar, District Three Male.**

* * *

The backpack rattles with each determined step I take. I can't stop, not now, not ever. The moment I stop, it'll hit me, I just know it. I can feel the icy claw dragging itself down my spine, teasing the dark corners of my brain. I killed Laurel. I killed Laurel. I might as well have killed Nova. I'm a monster and nothing. I'm barely myself; I'm barely human.

I stop abruptly, almost falling over my own feet. The emotions collide with my brain and I hiccup, allowing the tears to slide down my cheeks. Since when were they building? I can't remember. I don't want to remember.

I swallow thickly, my stomach growling in pain. I haven't eaten in days, yet, I could be sick if I wanted to. I must've ate back just after Nova died... that's been a few days now surely. I made Laurel eat. Was I just fattening her up like a lamb to the slaughter? No, no, of course not. I wasn't... I wouldn't... but I did. I threw that explosive and I didn't think twice, I just did it. I killed her even though she would've been dead anyway. I wanted to move, I willed myself to move, but the claw kept me pinned and because of it, I'm a murderer.

I scream in frustration, bringing my fists to my temple and punching hard. I hit harder and harder, the wave of pain numbing out the darkness. I hit again, feeling the tears build up and the throbbing sensation and everything just clouds and confuses me but it helps remind me that I'm human and that I'm alive. As long as I feel something, it can't win.

But if I feel something, I'm as good as dead. If I let everything smother me...

I force my shaky hands away, staring hard at the dancing grass. Everything was so perfect before this, before it all. I might've been rejected and ignored back in District Three - a community that should be open-minded considering their high intelligence - but I was happy because everything was perfect. I was allowed to do my own thing. I made myself into something, even if it was the "strange kid who watches fire like he wants to roll around in it". I actually became something other than the annoying little kid that I grew to despise for being so... so... not me. I made myself into something; and in the matter of a few days, the Capitol have stripped it away from me. I swallow the lump forming and stand up, legs shaking.

Four tributes to die. On instinct, I grab the backpack and open it up. Four explosives; one for each teenager.

The thought of their exploding limbs and the destruction make me want to gag. I used to love the sounds and the destruction, and now, the thought sickens me to the core. My fingers graze over the smooth metal and suddenly, the emotions are gone, the darkness is back, consuming, suffocating, hardening.

I'll kill them all. I'll watch their arms and legs separate from their bodies and the tongues of fire lick away at their flesh. I'll go home and become the boy I was always meant to be.

I start to walk with newfound determination. I can't think of anything else except watching their bodies be destroyed. That was the one constant image of Laurel I kept, the only one I want to keep; I want to see them all burn and obliterate. For a brief moment as I walk through the grass, my humanity returns and I stop and cry again, just before the hatred and burning darkness returns. Red-faced and puffy-eyed, the familiar scenery hits me and I stop.

The grass ascends upwards and I can see the brief topping of shrubbery and rocks. My eyes strain as I stare harder, the scene flooding back. Me and Nova, standing at the top, staring at the arena in a mixture of amazement and excitement. We didn't even let the fear hit us yet; we appreciated the beauty of it. We ran, and as we ran, the grass scratched my neck. Then it thinned out and we were vulnerable and then the water and the creature - green-scaled and ferocious - biting onto Nova's ankle and the water turning a sickening crimson...

I snap back to reality. I could win for her, the one girl I didn't intentionally want dead... at least, I don't think I did. I don't remember what I felt back then.

Walking up the hill with struggled steps, I pull the backpack down to my hands. I don't know what to expect but I can guarantee that they'll be a tribute... this is the feast, and more have to die. It won't be me. At least, I hope it isn't. The doubt creeps into my mind as I reach the top, the plates and golden horn coming into view. I see a shadow at the mouth and instantly freeze. Judging by the shadowy long hair, it must be a female. District Two or Ten, neither ones I want to face. I suppose it's better than the boys, though. I swallow hard and just focus on her posture.

Then, she moves... I quickly flip the backpack open and grab onto a metallic orb. She moves out into the light; District Two. I throw the orb without a second thought, the teasing darkness encouraging me. It flies through the air and she realises. She runs for the hills as it detonates.

Even with the distance, I feel the hot air fly at me, forcing me down onto the sharp rocks. I bite on my tongue, gripping the backpack harder. I roll myself over, trying to get up, but the rocks get shifting and I can't balance my feet. From the corner of my eye, I see the girl stirring on the floor. Panic seizes my throat and I force myself onto my feet, just as she gets up. One orb down and she's alive. Great. She runs fast and I fumble for another weapon.

She's on me in seconds, swinging the scythe crazy. I manage to avoid it, hearing her ragged breath. The rocks slip underneath my feet and I fall down on the rocky knoll once more.

"You're dead," she hisses, slamming the scythe down. I avoid it, but the hot tip pierces my top to the ground, pinning me. I struggle, eyes suddenly heavy and thick. My tongue feels furry. The throbbing pain in my head makes me react as a boot collides into my knee, forcing me down. "You had no chance, sweetheart."

For some reason, I can't will myself to move. Everything happens in slow motion; the scythe flies down, the pain sharp before it dulls out, my eyes becoming even more heavy. I don't struggle or whimper, I just hold back the tears and the escaping scream and lay there. I can't live with the darkness. I can't live knowing that I'm a murderer. I don't deserve to live.

An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.

* * *

**Theon Sykes, District Six Male.**

* * *

The cannon that booms shakes my core. I don't scream or yelp, but the urgency makes me feel jittery. Some rocks from the top of the cave begin to rattle and fall down. I was lucky to find this cave; being out underneath the sun only makes my leg wound hurt more. Before, it didn't hurt, but it does now. I pull the makeshift bandage away gently, seeing the wound that is no longer red, but rather purple and green. It almost looks like it's bubbling.

I grit my teeth and take a knife from the backpack I took from Justice. It was always stained with blood, probably the animal's. I stare hard at the wound and push the knife in the hole, a scream breaking at the back of my throat as the yellow puss suddenly floods out. The sight is sickening but it needs to be done. I pull the knife away and quickly wrap the wound back up, fingers quivering and shaking.

I need to do this. I need to win. Robyn and Keane's faces flash across my mind and I try to store their images as a way of encouragement... I can barely remember what they look like. Did Robyn have my hair colour or Savannah's? Keane might be trying to crawl soon, maybe even walking since he was always a fast learner. The thought of my children growing without me fills me with nostalgia and the tears lean heavily on my eyelashes.

For them. Three tributes left; it can't be that hard. Three more to kill or die... I can do that for my babies.

For once, it feels like I'm putting them first. My hero complexity has never done me well, and in here, it makes me feel selfish. I was whipped for trying to be a hero. I was banished from my home, disowned by my parents, just because of me wanting to help others. I met Savannah by doing it. I managed to do some good, but it's washed out by the bad side-effects, like wanting to help Justice when it turns out she was a murderer, or helping Lena who then got me seriously injured. I thought about helping them when I should've though about my children and myself only.

Does it make me a bad father?

I can't think like that. I try and force myself up on my feet, and even with a bad leg, I manage to gain my composure. The darkness both inside my head and the cave is smothering, but the sun is just too bright. Nothing helps. I bend over and grab both the mace and down-trodden backpack. With a fight coming ahead at the feast, I need to move. I wince as the sunlight hits my eyes and the dark parts of my brain suddenly become alert.

I glance around at the bright scenery. I don't even know where the Cornucopia and everything is, it's been a while since I knew my way around. A shadow from the corner of my eye makes me turn around at lightning speed. The cat slinks out from the bushes, tanned skin and blood eyes. I can see the mouth flicker into a growl, but it stays still. I grip the mace harder out of instinct, just in case she attacks. Another soon follows and I step back, a jolt of pain in my leg causing me to bite down on my tongue. For some reason, I feel like this is the Gamemakers guiding me to the feast. After all, it's more fun to watch us fight rather than die by an animal's claw.

I look up to the sky, as if that'll help guide me.

The roar that follows soon cuts me off. This is louder, stronger and my heart quakes. Just on top of the cave stands the great beast. The darkness tells me to fight it, but for some reason, I just end up staring at the creature. Tanned fur and blood eyes. Lips pulled back into a ferocious snarl, showing off chipped teeth and a flicking tongue. I gulp, a strange sort of familiarity flooding my senses. I've seen this before. My mind traces back to the small lion cub I killed at the start of the Games... it hits me hard; this is the mother.

My knuckles ache from the grip on my weapon as the animal slowly paces down the rocky slope. I step back on instinct, ready to bolt, but my leg protests and I'm reminded that I'm probably screwed in running. I have to fight. As it leaps and lands on the grass, I can see the visible scars and cuts - some red, some white - that cut the fur up. She's been in fights. I wonder if she was hunting me? Of course, animal or human, a parent protects their children. She's doing what I would've done; the scars on my back prove that.

I raise the weapon and the animal leaps once more, as quick as the lightning that Robyn was so afraid of.

I swing wildly, clipping the creature around the face. It flies to the side and I quickly stumble backwards, a poor attempt in running away. It's no use. My leg screams in pain and I just know that I'll have to kill her and then the others if they decide to attack, acting like a pack, just like the Careers.

The animal is quick on her feet and swiftly moves forward. As I swing my mace, she smacks it away with her paw, sending it into the grass. I barely have enough time to avoid the second slash of her claws, the tips tearing my shirt open, freeing the scream lodged in my throat. I fall to the floor and make a weak attempt at clawing towards the weapon... but her claw sinks into my back and I scream again, the pain overriding the dull throbbing sensation in my skull. I force myself over onto my front to face her. I punch and hit out, trying to grab her fur. She snaps forward, teeth large and broken. I manage - at the last second - to grab her whiskers, keeping the snapping jaw at bay. Drool and blood falls onto my face and I want to be sick, I want to scream in anger and sadness, but all I can do is hold onto her so she doesn't try and eat me.

For what feels like hours - but is only probably minutes - one of the other animals run over. The lioness' roar bursts into my face, forcing my eyes closed. My hands are slicked with saliva as teeth sink into my thigh. I scream. My hands waver. My grip loosens. The lioness lungs, teeth and tongue bared.

I don't feel much. The darkness quickly shroudes the pain and I lay there, the world blurring at the corners of my vision. White stars explode in the rest and my whole body feels... disconnected to my brain. I can't process anything as I feel the warmth of my blood and the cold breeze that grazes over my stomach. Tears lean heavily on my eyelashes but I can't bring out the strength to force them away.

I'm sorry, Robyn and Keane. I'm sorry for failing you. I'm sorry for not being a good enough father.

* * *

**Serena Pierce, District Ten Female.**

* * *

I move swiftly through the bushes, barely acknowledging the thorns and branches that dig into my legs and my arms. I have to move. I have to keep going. Something inside of me tells me the way, as if my mind has some tracking device that is letting me know the directions. The sword is idle in my hands as I run, not swinging nor swaying. It's motionless.

I have no backpack, not anymore. I tried to save Katey's backpack but a bird caught it and took it away. That backpack at the feast is for me. It'll have bandages, food, water and another weapon. I have three more op-

My words are toppled over by the cannon.

Two opponents. I have two opponents left. The sound leaves a hollow feeling in my chest and I try to ignore it, swallowing down the raw emotions surfacing. After killing Katey - after the District Eleven girl and India - the emotions would run high, and then, they would stop and I'd feel nothing. No remorse nor guilt. Just... nothing. Then, it'd hit me hard, smothering and suffocating and I wouldn't be able to do anything but bawl my eyes out until I was left without liquid.

I've turned into a monster. I've become the one thing that many in District Ten had dubbed me as, Rhona included, despite the irony. She was just like me yet enjoyed joining everyone else. She never said it to my face - she was suppose to be my friend, after all - but word came back to me that she was the fuel to the fire, so to speak. She was the one that did it to me. She encouraged me, told me it was the only choice to help a starving family, and I did so. At a young age, I started to sleep with people for money. Not a hardcore prostitute - only a couple of times if we were running low on food or clothes - but it was the only way. No-one took an interest in me before and Rhona showed me the kind of people that would make me feel better about myself. Needless to say, it didn't work out so well. I was just an object to them, nothing special.

My family found out. My own brother shunned me and turned his back on me. Landon was always arrogant, but now, now I wasn't good enough to share the same air as him. I lost most people that day.

Everything came back around - everything toned down after a year or so - but my little community literally enjoyed to stare, whisper, cover their mouths so I couldn't read their lips as I walked by. People probably cheered when I was reaped.

The emotions tumble at me again and I whimper, silent tears slipping down my cheek. I'm the monster they had called me for over a year. I killed three innocent girls. Two of them were my allies - one since the beginning, one being new - whilst the other was another outer tribute like myself, with poverty and judgement weighing heavily on our shoulders.

I'm no better than a Career.

I walk hastily through the bushes and grass again, everything eating away at my soul. The darkness doesn't come and take it away. Instead, it plays there, making me sick to my stomach and forcing tears to block up on my eyesight. That's the beauty of my evergrowing darkness; it helps me forget about everything, about the wrongs I've done and the many bad choices I've made.

The anthem suddenly cuts through the wispy silence. My hands shake as I look at the sky, willing it to be the two biggest competitiors down.

The first face is the little boy from District Three and my heart shatters for the final time. So young. I was his age when I started going down the alleys and dark corners of District Ten to find the men and their money. I bite the inside of my cheek until I feel blood leak onto my tongue. The girl Career is still alive; District Two, famous for being brutal.

The next isn't Percival and my heart sinks. It is District Six, weathered and masculine. A shaky sigh escapes my lips and I keep moving, unable to watch the seal or any of it become normal. Nothing is normal anymore. It's me versus two Careers. Two strong, death-defying, brutal, angry, killing machines. Percival is a monster. I don't remember the girl so much, but she's probably the same.

I force myself out of the bushes when I see the hill come into view. I slowly trek up it with determined steps. This is it; this will be the final battle. When I reach the shrubbery at the top, I'm met by the stained, red rocks and the destruction down below. The grass is dead - brown and flat - whilst the Cornucopia is no longer gold but rather black. It looks like an explosion has happened or something. The darkness teases my brain as I slowly creep down the hill, heading for the thick of things.

"You made it," a voice comes and I instantly freeze, snapping my head around and holding onto the sword tighter. "I was beginning to think no-one was going to turn up," I see the girl sat on the floor, picking at her nails. Her face is smeared black, hair dishelleved. "Minerva," she greets herself. I catch a glimpse of the silver scythe next to her, tip stained crimson. "Oh, and hello Percy sweetheart. It's been a long time."

I snap my head around to see Percival coming down the hill not far from me. He looks over in my direction and I can see the lecherous smile on his face, hidden by the oozing cut and red-dyed skin. He looks like he's been beaten up bad. I smile, remembering that I did that.

"District Ten. What a pleasant surprise," then he glances down at Minerva. "Oh, this is going to be a lot of fun, I can tell you that. Both of my greatest rivals in the same place."

I hold onto the hope that I beat Percival in a fight and continue to walk downwards slowly, carefully, watching Minerva as she gets up and Percival as he moves lazily. I cut his eye open. One advantage I have over him. Fear seizes my heart and I pull the sword upwards, pointing it out the gap between their moving forms. Minerva has her scythe. Percival has a short, curved knife. I have the longest and strongest weapon. I've probably killed the most tributes. I'm probably the biggest monster out of us all.

But this isn't a place for the innocent. Innocence doesn't belong in a place of death. Me, Minerva and Percival are here because we are not innocent. We are guilty of killing and murdering in cold blood.

The sky suddenly darkens and I watch as shadows stretch out on the floor. Everyone stops and my heart leaps to my throat. The sky is no longer blue, but black, just like when the storm rolled in. There's no thunder or lightning this time. Instead, the air fills with the sounds of animals roaring and screaming, crying and howling, all towards the sky. I can barely hear myself think as chaos develops around me. The noise blasts at my ears and I stumble a little on the loose, blood-stained rocks.

We all have killed for a game. A game that's about to be over soon.

* * *

******Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Terris Avar, District Three.**

******Theon Sykes, District Six.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Lighty, Terris was a wonderful tribute who went through so much. I've loved him a bunch!**

**Jake, well, what can I say... Theon was something else. I never had a parent tribute before this story. He showed me a lot and it was fun to toy with his emotions and his children!**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Who do you want to win and think will win? Minerva, Percival & Serena.**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Sorry for the delay. This is the third time I've wrote this entire chapter out. I just didn't think I was doing Terris nor Theon justice... I hope this has changed! I wanted their deaths to be something else.**

**Next chapter is the dreaded finale. Normally, I have like the arena falling apart or something for this... but this time, it's solely going to be fighting and heartbreak and yeah. At least, in my mind it's like that, might not come out that way. After the finale, we'll see an epilogue from our Victor who will then be presented during Lost as a mentor!**

**People won't like Percival being here. Yeah yeah, he's had no development, but in my eyes, I wanted a bad guy for a specific action that'll happen next chapter. Plus, Percival is literally my nightmares in human form and I love his badassery too much. Same goes for Minerva and Serena, they deserve to be here and I wanted fighters. Although, I did toss up both Terris and Theon being here for quite some time...**

**I hope this feels right.**


	19. Iridescent

**Iridescent.**

_With the cataclysm raining down, your insides crying, "Save me now"._

* * *

**Minerva Li, District Two Female.**

* * *

Looking at Percival only reminds me of the anger that I hold for the twisted boy. I'll never forget how he treated me during training, forcing me into a sword fight when he knew he could win. He tricked me, tried to humiliate me, and now I want my revenge. District Ten doesn't matter - she's never mattered - it's always been about us Careers. I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth and watch him move closer and closer towards me. I can't help but be drawn to the damage down to his once remarkably handsome face. Whoever done it, they done good. His skin is stained red and it looks at if he can't see out of one eye. Not going to lie; it feels me with promise. The darkness from the sky seems to make his skin almost glitter, and whilst it's impressive, it's also sickening.

The grinding noise of gears makes me ears become alert. I stagger back, watching the table arise from the ashes and dead grass. Three backpacks sit on top, each marked with our district number. I'm the closest, I could have them all. My backpack is the smallest, but I'm guessing it's because I have everything I need. Percival's happens to be the largest. I look up, clarifying that he only has a large, curved knife. His must be a weapon.

District Ten is in the corner of my view and I make sure to note her posture. She's calm and collected, ready. She's probably going to go down with a fight, just like me and Percival. Maybe Anubis was the wrong choice; maybe we should have looked at her instead.

A soft whistle only adds to the clouded confusion in my mind. My knuckles ache from my grip on the scythe, and I look up, watching the parachute flutter towards me. Just now? Really?

"Looks like there's some favouritism going on," Percival chimes. "I'd say that's no fair."

I don't have the concentration to bite back. I just follow the silver canister and it lands inches from my feet. My eyes snap down and upwards, watching both of the tributes edge closer, trying to be sneaky. I quickly bend over - looking away for a second - before bringing the canister into my hands. I hear Percival laugh heartedly. The anger rises in me as I read the note quickly.

_Get your backpack. You'll like the contents. Time to put a dirty dog to sleep -T_

Tarzana. About time I actually got something handed to me. I've worked for everything like I've always have. Nothing has ever been given to me. Nothing. I've worked for the clothes on my back and the food in my stomach. I'm here because I'm a fighter through and through, steel mixed in my blood.

I step forward cautiously, surprised no-one has attempted their backpacks. I could have them all if I wanted them, but no, I just want mine to take out Percival.

District Ten sprints into a run, sliding down the rocky slope, sword poised as the animals cry behind her, providing the perfect background tune.

Percival smirks as he launches himself forward.

I react.

My hand is already the backpack as hastily as I could, avoiding the deadly slash of Percival's knife from across the table. I duck underneath the golden structure, scythe forgotten. I swing the backpack at his feet but he simply side-steps and then kicks outwards. White stars explode in my vision as his boot collides with my forehead. It re-opens a wound from one of the animals and I have to bite down on my tongue not to scream and curse. I scramble backwards as another set of footsteps slam down nearby. I curl my fingers around my scythe and throw myself upwards.

District Ten jabs her sword out, but Percival dodges, a smirk permanently etched on his lips. I leap for his backpack but he notices, curling his fingers through it as I grab onto the zip. He manages to avoid District Ten's next slash, the sword ripping open his top, before he hauls the backpack from the table and swings it across at District Ten. I fall forwards from the strength as it collides with her face. She staggers back and Percival is quick to run away.

I growl underneath my breath. "We need to work together," I state to District Ten. She recovers and looks at me suspiciously, instantly pointing her sword at my heart. "I said, we need to work together. Look, I get that you don't trust me, sweetheart, but he needs to be killed before he kills us."

She winches, eyes twitching and face slightly contorting. Great, so she's messed up in the head.

I don't think twice. I don't want to kill her, not yet. Percival is still as strong as he's always been; cocky and arrogant and devious but most of all, invincible. I need her to work with me, just to kill him. I dash around the table, hooking the small backpack over my shoulder as I run after him. Pieces of rubble and dirt lie scattered around from District Three's suicide mission, but Percival leaps over them nimbly. The minute his weapon is out, we're screwed.

As he stops and attempts to dig it out, I pounce. I swing the scythe and hook the handle, ripping it from his hands. He looks furious as I flip the backpack off, throwing it in the distance.

"Shouldn't have done that." he hisses, his knife cutting the air.

I don't have time to move. The weapon punctures my upper arm and I scream. He pulls back and I quickly throw myself to the floor in order to miss the next hit. District Ten is taking her sweet time, but soon enough, Percival leaps back as District Ten slices her sword outwards. She does it again, and this time, the sword slices across Percival's stomach. He doesn't scream or shout, but the blood pools from his waist and he instantly looks pale.

I fumble for my backpack, struggling to get the zip open. The sticky, warm sensation of blood drips from my arm as I pull forth a needle, purple liquid inside. It looks familiar and I remember hauntingly how one day, not long after the Quarter Quell in which Ajax won, a kid from the younger years injured themselves badly. Everyone tried to help but it didn't work. I remember seeing someone inject something into him and he was announced dead the next day, apparently dead from his wounds. I glance at the liquid, hollow chest pumping.

This'll kill Percival in one hit. A quick, painless, easy death.

He doesn't deserve it, but I have no other choice.

I stuff it back in my backpack hastily. I have to save this for the perfect time.

* * *

**Percival Harlin, District Four Male.**

* * *

Serena continues to parry with me, forcing me towards the wreckage. I would laugh if it weren't for the fact that her eyes are dark and dangerous, a certain sense of evil hidden inside those orbs. She's truly insane and an insane person is as deadly as a psychopath like myself.

She whips her sword to the side and I have to catch it with my hand. I don't feel nothing, but blood pools on the sword and falls down dramatically. I look up at her gasped face and I smirk, curling my fingers around the weapon and ripping it from her hands. It falls from the floor and as she steps forward, I push the knife towards her throat. She quickly backs down. I shake my hand, noticing the way my finger moves entirely by itself. Broken bones and blood and I can't feel a thing. It's always been a blessing.

"Working with Minerva, aye?" I tease, her eyes never leaving mine. She doesn't look afraid, she looks prepared. "We could've killed her, you and me," Minerva is still on the floor, curled up in a fetal position. She'll be dead soon enough. "But you have to take her side over mine."

"Why would I do that?" she asks, glaring.

"Because I'm the better choice, obviously." I smirk.

"Not with that little injury," she counters. "You look like I feel, actually," she's hopeless without her sword, but the fire in her eyes entice me to just stare. "Can't handle the pain, Percival?"

"I can handle all types of pain. Your ally was an example, was she not?"

Serena growls and steps forward, but I raise the knife just as quickly and like an animal to a flame, she cowers.

"That's more like. Be a good beast and back down when I tell you to," I grin, focusing in on her state. Unlike my battered appearance and Minerva's worn-torn face, Serena actually has held up well. She looks feral, yes, but she was never the most girly girl around. As much tact and femininity as a rock. "Do you have any last words, or is that a cliché thing to ask when the bad guy is about to send the good guy to their doom?"

"It's cliché. If you're referring to that, then we all know how this ends," she hisses and then, she spits out a bloody wad into my face. It falls over my good eye and my head whips to the side. I stagger backwards, still blinded, whilst Serena punches me once more. The knife falls from my hand and she must bend it over, because I swing my fist out and meet nothing. I hastily wipe at my eye to rid it of spit. When I can see again, I see the flash of familiar silver before it lands in my shoulder. I grapple at the blade, watching her with a neutral expression. "You're as good as dead."

For once in my life, I want to feel something. Something about this situation and the fear caught in my chest tells me that it'd be easier to feel something.

I stumble backwards, the blade pulled out. Serena comes flying into view and punches me square in the face again, an act that sends me to the floor. I hit it hard, realising that I might not do it. Everything in my body is telling me to fight it, and yet, I can't seem to muster up the strength nor the compassion required. I crawl across the rubble and dead grass, nails scratching at the blackened dirt to crawl away like some weakling. I'm not dead yet. I'm not out of this competition.

Serena stomps forward, her boots loud and clear. When I know she's near, I have enough energy in my broken hand to swipe at her ankles. The force sends Serena sprawling to the floor and she squeaks, the knife having cut across her hand. It skits across the floor and I struggle to move forward, but then, Minerva is suddenly there and the ribbon of fire in my throat bursts out into a scream of agony and annoyance. They're working together!

Serena's hand is clamped around my ankle in an instance and Minerva's boot meets my face. I hear the sickening crunch of what could be my nose breaking, but again, I feel nothing. As Minerva kicks out again, I roll over, bringing my other foot around and forcing my heel into Serena's shoulder. Serena's grip falls and I manage to miss Minerva's stupid, pathetic little kick. She attempts it again, but I somehow manage to avoid and grab her ankle.

That's when I notice the knife nearby.

I could slice her ankle, and she wouldn't be able to walk anymore. It's a perfect scenario. I stretch for the knife, curling my fingers around the silver blade, blood still leaking from my hand. I flip it with ease and slash out as Minerva kicks again. The knife cuts her leg and she hisses - putting her off-guard - but I'm grappling her legs within seconds and bringing her to the floor. She lands with a thud, head whiplashing against a chunk of stone. Serena is up quickly and pounces on my chest, hair matted and eyes feral. She punches and punches, one hand clamped around the hand that contains the precious knife.

I take the hits but lock my grip around the blade. They have nothing - this is the last thing to kill thing - and I won't let her have it. I shuffle and squirm, bringing my knees up and slamming them into her back. She falters and hisses, but sends another punch into my throat. It cuts off my breathing straightaway and I gulp and gag for precious, diluted air. Air that is polluted by smoke and terror. She punches me again and it's only then do I register that Minerva isn't moving.

Did I kill her?

Another punch. I'm literally shaking from the lack of oxygen.

No, I couldn't have. There's no cannon. This bitch just won't die; twice now she's just laid there after a hit and seemed dead!

Another punch. I can feel the world blurring at the edges. She aims her next punch for my wrist, causing my grip to waver. I bring my weak knees up into her back again and she flies forward, knee brushing against my cut-up eye.

I spin around and try to compose myself, but for some reason, my body isn't cooperating. My fingers can barely hold onto the knife as it falls from my hand, landing in a heap of dead grass below. I struggle to my feet, barely registering any noises. The animals screech and howl in the background - their battle cries bouncing around in the atmosphere - but as I reach my feet, I realise my greatest mistake.

I kicked Serena in the direction of her sword.

I whip around urgently, catching the crimson-tipped silver before it plunges into my chest. My chest heaves at the intrusion and I meet Serena's eyes, masked and hidden behind the dirty blonde hair. Her teeth are grit, jaw clenched and head shaking violently with anger. Blood builds in my mouth and spews over my lips. I stagger back and forth, but Serena pushes the sword in deeper and deeper. Minerva moves from the corner of my eye. I don't even have the strength to hate her for living past me. I was better than her, and she survived somehow.

Serena rips the sword out and I crumple to the floor. The world blurs more intensely, eyelids heavy.

I finally give in and allow death to comfort me. Somewhere far away, I can hear my cannon. Third place isn't so bad. At least all the toys I did pick got destroyed.

Boy, they're going to be pissed when they see me; but that's just the fun behind the game.

* * *

**Serena Pierce, District Ten Female.**

* * *

He's dead. The one boy whose been a thorn in my side is finally dead. Darkness overwhelms me and I have to try and hold my ground to stop myself from falling over. It was so easy to kill him and I enjoyed. I enjoyed fighting with him, punching him, pushing the sword past all of his organs and tearing up his insides. I loved every moment.

That's why I know I'm a monster.

I let out small, contained breaths and run a shaky hand through my hair.

"Well done," Minerva suddenly compliments me and I spin around, eyes flaring up at the final fighter. I could go home. I'd go home to a life full of rumors and pain, but I'd be alive. I would've made it. She's my last obstacle. "I didn't think you had it in you," she says. "How many?"

"How many what?" I ask, defensive.

"How many kills," she states plainly. "I've killed..." she stands up, a trickle of blood on her forehead, a trail on her arm and a nasty looking wound now on her leg. "Three. They were pretty easy. And you?"

My mind berates me and screams: _you're a murderer! A murderer!_

"Four." I say calmly.

Her lips twitch into a smirk. "Congratulations, sweetheart. You could've been a Career with the rest of us."

"I'm not like any of you." I snarl.

"Of course not. Whatever helps you sleep and all that," she begins to pace to the side, and for a moment, I quickly try and remember where her scythe ended up. I can't remember, but I still grip the sword just as hard. Her backpack is nearby though, that could contain a knife or something. Remembering, I glance down at Percival's knife. Yeah, she ain't having this one. "But four kills is impressive. More than me, even. You're no better than us no matter how many times you tell yourself that. The difference is though, are you going to kill me in an unfair fight, or allow me a weapon to fight fairly? That'd set you apart from the others."

I'm not a Career. No, of course not. I didn't train before the Hunger Games and I wasn't crazy enough to volunteer myself forward for that opportunity. No, I'm Serena Pierce, a born and bred monster but never a Career. "You can have a weapon," I say and she quickly collects the backpack. "But only your scythe."

"How kind of you," she drawls and walks the little distance. She bends over, revealing the scythe to be hidden behind some rubble.

The animals' roars in the sky suddenly become louder and deafening, increasing in pitch. I'm forced to clamp my hands over my ears, dropping the blood-stained sword. Minerva does the same and I bite down on my tongue, the animals sounding more and more like the people that died.

It hits me then. My heart clenches as the cries become human - cries of agony and pain.

It's the dead tributes' last sounds.

I clearly remember Katey's scream of agony. That's there. District Eleven's battle cry and anger for survival. That's there too. The animal sounds and the faint memories of the tributes begin to blur until I can only hear them.

Then, it pauses. I pull my hands away. A final roar enters the sky. My heart clenches; it sounded just like Percival.

The others resume, almost like a haunting song. The final fight has truly began. Someone has to die within the next few seconds, otherwise they'll come for us. As suspected, when I look over at the hill, I see the glimpse of a large, hulking animal next to a smaller, wolf-like creature and then another, followed by something with a diluted but rich fur. They're waiting to attack. They're watching, spectators, like the Capitol people urging for our blood. The throbbing behind my eyes remind me that I'm still here; it won't go away unless I'm dead or I win.

I lunge forward without a thought, something in my brain telling me that a Career wouldn't be fair - why should I? Minerva isn't paying attention; her hands are still over her ears, scythe on the floor. I grab a piece of rubble on the way and bring it upwards. Minerva opens her eyes just as the rock slams into the side of her face.

She falls to the ground hard, scrabbling at it to get her wits together. I'm quick, though, grabbing her scythe, all the while being encouraged by the looming darkness in my mind.

Minerva spins over on the ground and I slam the scythe down. She avoids it, bringing her foot up rather flexible. It collides with my upper chest, breaking up my breathing. I stagger back and Minerva is on her feet, suddenly in my face and wrenching her scythe from my hands. She swings wildly, and I duck the blow, falling to my knees and speedily trying to get back to my sword. I was stupid for not using that instead!

I nearly trip over a piece of rubble on the way, but quickly grab the sword, bringing it around to meet with Minerva's scythe in a clash of scraping metal. The animals continue their verbal assault, and I'm still able to pick out Katey and Percival and even Ezra's voice, though his is more faint and hard to remember clear. All the dead, cheering and chanting through the animals' sounds.

We parry the scythe and sword together. My eyes are drawn to Minerva's backpack, though, zipped up and obviously important to her. My backpack... it's a lost cause. It's probably not going to help me whatsoever. I push the sword harder, trying to force Minerva back. I see a piece of rubble and aim my strike to try to push her further towards it.

For what seems like hours - but is probably only minutes - I manage to push her back enough. She does, hitting the rock and losing her footing. She cascades backwards and I catch a glimpse of her eyes; she knows it is over.

Off-guard and without proper footing, I swipe my sword across her stomach. If I'm a Career like she said, I wouldn't think twice; I don't.

I squint my eyes as my shaky hand releases the sword to the ground. Minerva squirms from the pain, backpack abandoned.

I walk over to her, compassion managing to seep through. I never supported India nor Katey through their deaths. I walked away, the part of my brain telling me that it wasn't worth it, to think of myself. Now I know it's the darkness, and I feel compelled to fight against the suffocating pressure.

I bend over, opening up the zip to the backpack. Minerva quickly grabs my wrist and urgency floods my veins. I look to her pale but dirty face.

"N-N-Needle..." she mumbles. I frown, but opening the backpack fully, I see the needle with purple liquid. I scoop it up and look at her. She nods weakly, and I push the tip into her neck without a second thought, my mind only focusing on the fact that I'm going to win now.

Relief floods her face and a small smile breaks out her lips. Next, her cannon sounds.

All of a sudden, the darkness just stops. I don't feel the pressure nor the urge. Instead, the hidden and trapped emotions fly forward at a sickening pace. I let out a scream, tears breaking fear from their barriers. Bile rises in my throat and I quickly puke to the side of Minerva's now dead body. My body violently shakes and I can't compose myself, tears and constant sickness and disgust and dread and everything just overpowers me and keeps me locked to the ground.

At least when I was a monster, I didn't feel nothing. Now, I wish I didn't.

Being human isn't worth this if this is what life is going to be like.

* * *

_"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the Victor of the One Hundredth and Fifth Hunger Games, Serena Pierce! I give you - the tribute of District Ten!"_

* * *

******Iridescent by Linkin Park.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _wildone hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Percival Harlin, District Four.**

******Minerva Li, District Two.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Immy, I loved Percival despite everyone else who didn't! I said this all the time and will continue to do so; Percival was the perfect villain for this story. He has to be one of the most unnerving, psychotic, Careers I've ever had.**

**arkanians, Minerva was just brilliant. Compared to most Careers, people liked Minerva because of her backstory and reasons. It made her more lighter in my eyes.**

* * *

**If you could, a review on these questions would make my day:**

_-Who you thought would win Wild One, at any point?_

_-Your favourite character (despite your own, and no matter their final placement)?_

_-Are you happy with who won (going by realism and favouritism)?_

_-The most shocking death of this story, to you?_

_-The most jaw-dropping moment (or, in other words, the scene that captured you the most)?_

_-Your favourite chapter?_

* * *

**People probably guessed Serena and if so, you were right. Serena was my choice for Victor from the final five. When I had the final five left, I just knew it was her over the others. She had the most development, the most plots, the biggest chance and one of the hardest times (alongside Terris, in my opinion). **

**Serena was ideal in more ways than one.**

**I ask that you see this from an author's view, a realistic one, and a non-bias view. Not everyone's favourite can survive. Serena was the better choice out of the three leftover. Next chapter, Serena has to deal with all the emotions that the injection held back for so long. It should be up in a few days, alongside the obituaries that you all want to see no doubt for closure ;)**

**From that, next chapter will be the epilogue. I don't know what to do yet - either recaps with Hermes or Victory Tour, perhaps - but either way, Serena will be a mentor in Lost, just like Ajax for Claustrophobia. Expect to see her again!**

**And, of course, well done to DA Hogwarts Member (Megan) for her character's survival against all odds!**


	20. Dark Side

**Dark Side.**

_There's a place that I know, it's not pretty there and few have ever gone._

* * *

**Serena Pierce, District Ten Female.**  
**One Hundred and Fifth Victor.**

* * *

Returning home feels surreal. I could be dead for all I know, and this is some twisted version of what death could hold. I have to pinch myself a few times to remind myself that everything was real and that the emotions are still there. Each day, I fear that the emotions will return like they did after killing Minerva. I'd rather be numb. It was easier to cope with.

I briefly remember them saving me from the arena. The electrical ladder dropped but I couldn't stop being sick. Minerva and Percival were only a few feet from me, dead and turning cold, whilst I was crying my eyes out. I wanted to die. I decided then that the emotions were too much to live by. Death would have been more welcoming and safe. I doubt I'll ever be the same and Sunny confirmed that. She told me that no-one is ever the same, but that they have to move on. I ascended on the ladder and the animals just watched me, left in their habitat to roam and destroy, millions of darkened eyes watching me leave the place that broke something inside of me.

I rest my head against the cool glass of the train and strain my eyes on the blurry trees.

I haven't seen my family in weeks. Well, at least, I feel like it's been that. Sunny said it was just over eight days. Eight days I was trapped in there, surrounded by death. It felt longer. It felt tighter and more suffocating but no, it was only eight days. Time just drags in a place without night.

"Have you taken your pills today?" Sunny's voice comes. I look up, the light piercing my brain. I shake my head and returning my throbbing skull to the coldness. "You need to keep taking them, otherwise the side effects of the injection will return. Capitol attendants told you that, Serena. Don't be reckless now."

"I want the side effects of the injection to return." I reply quietly.

"Why would you want that?" Sunny growls. "They made you a monster. They changed your view and everything about you and you want to embrace it?"

I snap my head at her and my mind spins. It takes a moment before my eyes stop throbbing. "Feeling all of this is worse than the numbness. At least with the numbness, I could cope. I can't cope now," I pause, sucking in a breath through my teeth. "I don't think I'll ever cope."

"You survived over others. Don't be selfish and make their deaths in vain. Treat life good because you were lucky enough to keep yours compared to the others."

"You don't think I know that?" I have to steady myself to stop my mind from reeling again. I slap my hands on the table to focus in on Sunny's taut face. "You don't think I see their faces every day? I killed five people, Sunny. Five. Not just one or two, not out of defense, five people I willingly killed for this. It isn't worth it."

Sunny scowls but her eyes are more sympathetic. Lylac was much better to me and Ezra. But, Lylac returned early, taking Ezra's coffin with her. I'm left with the one person who seems to criticise my lifestyle and what I want to do.

Sunny stands up abruptly and storms out of the cabin, her dark hair swishing behind her. I don't care. I don't want to care. I'd rather be numb than face the world for what it is.

Missing out on my medicine does exactly that.

* * *

We're pulling into District Ten. I know because they're nothing but trees and farmland, and the smell has become more clean and fresh. I look out of the window longingly, knowing that I'm returning to the home that ridiculed me and the family that shunned me briefly. But, it's home, and my heart thumps hard at seeing my sister and my brother for the first time. Landon will no doubt judge me for my actions. I can only hope Amelia is much more welcoming, despite any reservations.

Sunny stands up again. Her movements make my head hurt. The trees disappear, to be replaced by the flashing bombardment of cameras. I wince and recoil from the window as quickly as possible.

"Hope you're ready to be a star," Sunny comments bitterly. "Those flies won't ever leave you alone now. Another reason to marvel in victory."

I swallow the lump in my throat and stand up. My palms are sweating and I have to constantly wipe them along my faded yellow dress. I'm not ready for this but I don't have a choice. I pull my arms around my chest as the doors slide open and Sunny steps forward. Instinctively, I follow, knowing that being behind Sunny is probably my best bet to get through this in one piece.

The cameras cause my eyes to explode in pain and agony, but I force my head down and keep moving. I hear screams and cheers from the poverty-ridden citizens who get to live a little bit easier now that I've won them rations for a year. Sunny's hand is suddenly on my shoulder and guiding me towards a car. Something inside of me stirs and I force my head up to look out at the crowd, hoping to see any of my family.

I don't see anyone.

* * *

I fiddle with my dress as I stand at the door. This is beyond stupid. I shouldn't be doing this because they won't want to see the monster of a daughter they produced. They watched every minute, every move, and now they know the real me. The Serena Pierce that kills and doesn't feel. Still, I manage to bring a fist up to the door and knock twice, something that's become usual in my family. Without siblings at home, we soon developed a keen way of telling each other who was at the door.

It takes a while and my heart falls in defeat at how my own family won't want to see me, but then the door swings open and Amelia is there, eyes wide and face as caring and comforting as possible.

I open my mouth to say something, but she quickly wraps her arms around me and pulls me in and I just break down. I sob and cry and shake and Amelia, being the bigger sister, holds me like a comfort blanket and a stable wall all at once, helping me from falling apart.

"Shush shush, it's okay, it's okay," she whispers into my ear. "You're safe Serena. You did and I always knew you could. Shush, it's over now, it's all over."

I pull back and continue to sniff. I feel so broken and lonely. Even Amelia's hugs - whilst helpful - only remind me of the emotions that I do not want to feel. Sunny forced a tablet down my throat, but I'll only ever take them when she's around. Sooner or later, she'll release that I'm a lost cause and that having no emotions is what I want.

Amelia takes me by the hand and leads me through her small, ratty house. I end up in the living room, where my nephew, Callum, sits on the floor, playing with a few wooden blocks. Seeing his bright hair and eyes send a wave of guilt through my veins, making me shiver. His auntie is a murderer. He'll grow up knowing that.

"He's been missing you," Amelia says, encouraging me into the room. Numb, I cross the floor and sit down opposite Callum, a part of me yearning that seeing his face and playing with him will help me regain some of my life and humanity. Someone so innocent can help someone so evil. "I think he knew you weren't around, because when I went to see Mom and Dad, he kept crawling towards your bedroom door, as if you were oversleeping or something," I nod slowly. Callum looks up and his tiny lips break out into a goofy, toothless smile. "See, he remembers you."

It gives me minor hope. Hope that innocence is bliss and that he'll never come to understand what I had to do.

* * *

I refuse to see Landon when Amelia asks. She says it quietly and calm - away from Callum's alert ears - as we sit at the table.

"He's your brother," she argues in that clear voice that has always made things harder to handle. She says it nice when really, I'd rather her shouting or screaming. "You can't ignore him forever, you know."

"A brother who looks down on me for my choices."

"That's always been Landon, you know that. He is an ass and nothing is going to change that, and likewise for the fact that he's your brother," she leans across the kitchen table, attempting to link our fingers together. I instantly flinch though. "Don't be like that. What would Mom and Dad say?"

I snap my head up, feeling the tears. "Don't play that card, Amelia."

She doesn't argue after that. Everything was a touchy subject before I left, and it's even more raw now. It was over a year ago but feels like yesterday. My parents might have given up the idea that their daughter resorted to prostitution when she hated herself - believed their child could do good - but I can't see them now. I broke their hearts once and I can't bare to do it again. First a prostitute and now a murderer.

"I'll come with you to see him? Lord knows he looks down on me and Callum just the same as he does everyone else." she offers but I shake my head, lips pressed tight and eyes drumming against their sockets. I don't want nor need these pills. It isn't worth it.

I refuse to see him. I refuse to see my parents. I'm only here because... I needed someone, and Amelia is the only person who doesn't look and judge at the same time. She's easier to read and handle. And, right now, I need easy, not comfort.

* * *

I attend Ezra's funeral out of compassion. I feel out of place, stood on the edge of a small family that weep for a child that died. Every now and then, someone gives me a look and it cuts through my soul. I'm probably a mocking reminder that their child died and I survived. I'm in his garden, and for some reason, it feels like I'm trespassing on something sacred and private.

District Ten might've gained another Victor, but this family still lost their child.

After the ceremony - quaint and cheap, proving the family's status on being on the bread line - I approach the woman who sobs the loudest. She cries and cries, a damp tissue constantly pressed against eyes that will never stop running for as long as she lives. Guilt twists inside of me and for a moment, I feel like dipping my hand into my pocket and throwing the tablets away. Not out of spite against Sunny or anything, but because all of this is proving my point in that emotions are going to break me very soon.

"Are you Ezra's mother?" I ask quietly, my voice timid and soft.

She snaps her head around and her eyes widen. I knew I shouldn't have come. I'm the mocking reminder, aren't I? "Yes. I know who you are, too. D-Did my boy, d-did he do okay?"

The question puzzles me. I don't even know what she means. The guilt suffocates my insides but I force myself to nod. "Y-Yes."

She lets out a relieved sob. "I-I was so-o worried for him."

"I want t-to help you out," I swallow thickly, the urge to rip my throat open just to be able to breathe properly. "Let me honor Ezra. I-I can give you some money every other month, to live on, a-and let me pay for a plaque or a h-headstone. Anything you want. Please, j-just let me do something."

It's obvious I feel guilty. I didn't kill Ezra - I didn't talk to him much either - but it's going to be hard living here knowing he's died. He wasn't an ally nor a friend, but he was my district partner. That bond is more deep and raw than anyone could know.

His mother only nods before bursting into tears again. I stand there awkwardly, forcing my own tears and sickness down to the dark depths of my body, hoping that the harder I push, the harder it'll be for them to resurface. Then, she does something unexpected and throws herself at me, wrapping arms around my slimmer frame and holding me, crying and crying and I shakily hold her back, mind reeling and stomach twisting but something feeling so normal about this.

Much like Callum, helping someone innocent seems to quell the fire within my body.

I could turn this around. I could become better.

* * *

I can't help but flatten out my dress over and over again. Something doesn't feel right about it; as if the expensive fabric should not be on someone so tainted. It's a stupid thing to think about, but yet, I feel the need to completely ruining it all in order to make sense of everything.

"Stop it," Sunny almost growls. "You'll ruin the dress and then we'll have to start over."

"Good." I snarl back, finding my fire.

I no longer have to listen to Sunny. She can tell me to do whatever she wants, but at the end of the day, I'm my own person and I make my own decisions. At first, I didn't understand it - I believed that Sunny could be the only one that would help save me when I didn't want to be saved - but now, now I realise that I'm as important as Sunny and whilst the prospects make my stomach churn violently, I know that if I don't want to take those tablets, I don't have to. Medication will bring back the worse emotions in me. Callum and Ezra's mother were lights in a dark place, but that dark place is the only thing that's keeping me together. I need it, at least for a few more months. Maybe just until the interviews and Victory Tour is over.

"Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, please welcome the Victor of the One Hundred and Fifth Games, all the way from District Ten - Serena Pierce!"

"Don't mess it up." Sunny shouts over the loud speakers as I walk on.

For some reason, I know where to go and what to do. I've never done this before - my own personal interview before launch was a complete disaster - yet, it comes natural. It worries me, if anything. Will I be used to the lights and the cameras? The attention? I've always had attention for the wrong reasons, and now, it's only going to increase. In the Capitol, I'm adored. In District Ten, I'm probably still classed as an abomination. I don't want people to continue to remember me.

As my eyes readjust to the light, I notice Hermes, grinning lecherous.

I quickly take the seat and hold down my dress. I'm prepared for whatever he is about to throw at me without a doubt. Right now, I'm glad I still haven't taken the medication; Hermes' words shouldn't stir any unwanted emotions from me.

"Serena, Serena, Serena," he begins. "What are we going to do with you, aye? Such a natural murderer."

For some reason, the word rolls straight off of me like water on a leaf. "I suppose nothing."

"You suppose?"

"Yes, I suppose," I repeat. "What can you do with me? Nothing. I played the game to the best of my ability," I make sure to empathise that last part. It's a game, in their eyes, and I need to keep it that way. For the sake of Lylac and Sunny, I don't want to cause trouble. "I can only continue to live. So, I suppose nothing."

"Quite the spitfire. I don't remember your interview being anything like this?" he leans forward, hands clasped together. Someone in the audience practically squeals and he smiles humourously. "Has the arena really changed your personality, or was this something that you wanted to hide from us all?" I digest the words carefully. Is this a trick question? I bite on my bottom lip gently, thinking of what to say. When he's met with silence, Hermes just leans back. "Ah, even you don't know that answer and you claim to be a Victor."

I shrug and he sighs. "I don't really know," I tread carefully. "The injection is still inside of me. Taking longer to wear off than they imagined."

"According to sources, that injection was to target the weaker minds, the ones more suspectable to losing themselves, those who weren't as strong to begin with," his words cut me and I panic internally. Why am I feeling this? Why isn't the injection overpowering me? I search the dark corners of my mind, trying to hide that hunger and desire that drove me to kill, but it's not there. "If it still hasn't worn off, then you are more weaker than most and yet, you're here. Clearly our Gamemakers done something extraordinary."

The words hit me again and I have to steady my vision in order to focus. "Haven't we got recaps to look through?"

He smiles cunningly. "Yes, we do. I suppose we could just hurry it up and get through with it, seeing as you won't be shedding any photographic tears."

The lights dim quickly and I take a deep breath. I can do this, with or without the darkness. It won't help me because I need to do it myself. Five deaths at my hands. Two allies and three enemies. A voice resounds from nowhere, declaring: "Twenty-four went in, and only one came out."

A white screen behind us explodes to life and I turn to face it, knowing that I'm expected to. I hold my breath as the white vanishes to be replaced with a cluster of colours that make my head hurt. Then, slowly, it fades into a dark scene, with grey skies and hollowed children. It must be District Three. A small boy - the male - walks towards the front with a hollow look in his eye. I never took much notice of him; he was young, weak, written off as a bloodbath from the moment he was called. Except, he wasn't, because he's here. Words the colour of blood appear on the screen, labelling him 'Fifth Place'.

I twist my mouth as it shifts to the next picture. This time, I know the victim as the boy from District Six. He's hulking compared to his other teenagers, and when he walks to the stage, a woman holding two children is crying on the outskirts. My heart freezes. Were they his children? I gulp, guilt coursing through my veins. He was a child and a parent. He had more to live for than others. 'Fourth Place'.

The screen moves, and now, I can see the sea, rolling against the shore. I've never seen that much water before. Percival is as cocky as ever as he takes to the stage, even announcing something into the microphone directed at his district partner. A monster, scaring the children before standing proud. His is the only death I don't feel guilty for. 'Third Place', written in blood, feels suitable for him.

District Two comes along next and Minerva makes her way to the stage, and from the looks of it, she looks less than impressed. It's a complete contrast to the girl who bravely fought against Percival and even asked for a last minute alliance. 'Second Place'. Her death I don't feel good about, despite being the quickest and easiest. My gut clenches, leaving me more confused than ever.

And, then, it goes to District Ten, a place I still long to be, even after returning. It doesn't feel the same. It's as if victory has left me with a different perspective on life, and that includes the place I grew up in. The escort calls me to the stage, and as I walk, I remember those emotions. Inside, I was screaming. I should've cried. I wanted to cry, and yet, I somehow managed to hold everything together despite all of the piercing glares. Ezra makes his way next, but as he mounts the stage, they quickly collapse the picture.

It fades into darkness and I let out a sigh of relief. The chariots appear next. Each tribute chariot gets a few seconds, showcasing the creations that were glorified that night. I don't remember my costume much. But, when I see it, cowboys, I remember the brief conversation where Sunny called Ezra a prat, and I felt guilty for the way that she has to treat him like competition, because she has to worry about me and only me. It's her job; she didn't do it too well. Our chariot gets longer, a lot longer, and I feel a sudden burst of anger when Katey's chariot gets about a second - being last in order - before switching screens once more. I lace my fingers through my dress as it changes again. Interviews. Everyone gets a line or two that sums them up. India talks proudly of her family and home, bright and bubbly although she plays into Hermes' tricks. Katey mentions little, keeping to herself and constantly running her fingers through her hair. The District Eleven girl is strong and defiant. Percival is both cocky and charming, and an echo of cheers ring out for their favourite player. Minerva focuses on her allies rather than her life, ensuring to take shots at the District One female. They stagger down on mine. I gulp, watching the way I hold myself. I look weak. They must have written me off from the moment it all began. I don't talk much - I've never liked to share my home life with anyone - but Hermes drags out a detail about Rhona and I watch as my face falls.

Everything has been made worser, commercialised for entertainment.

After that, the screen dies, constantly leaving the audience yearning for more.

"They fought to the death. They fought for the righted place as Victor."

I gulp again and the screen comes to life. The bright light pierces my eyes and illuminates the audience. I glance out curiously, and seeing a sign that has my name, my heart feels heavy. I turn back as the bright sky and swaying yellow grass reveals the bloodbath. The camera pans out, showing everyone that the small bloodbath pit was, indeed, just a minute part of the wilderness. We're all stood around the circle, waiting for our fates to play out. Did anyone believe they were going to die? I did.

The gong sounds and chaos envelopes.

I can't help but focus in on myself, running ahead. I watch myself target the District Eleven girl, fighting her off so I can collect a backpack. It was as if the world was telling me something. That fight now, that was the start of something later. The first death happens, and the camera shows Quinlan targeting Challis Glenley, sending a speedy knife into her chest. Her name starts the grid off: '24th Place'.

They show Fay crawling through the grass, right near the fake-Career. Stellan Kingsley stumbles into his path, meeting his sai and effectively dying. So far, not so bad. Neither death really hits me hard; that's the better thing.

The camera shifts. The female Career from District Four is sending wild arrows at everyone who nears her. Percival, however, is lazily watching nearby. This was before or after the fight? I don't remember, but I'm almost sure that the cameras will keep on me, sadly. Percival leaps, and his district partner is ready to fight. They fight and tussle - the crowd gasping, sitting on the edge of their seats - before Percival wraps the scarf around her neck, chokes her, before slamming her skull repeatedly against the golden skin. With each slam, I wince, breaking down the barrier I'm carefully placing up. Odette Leith, dead, murdered by her own ally.

After her is the worse, I can already imagine. The District Nine girl is on the floor, weak, surrounded by the monsters. Minerva is the one that leaps into action and seals her fate, and technically, the bloodbath should be over. I wait with baited breath as the camera shifts. My facade, once strong, is broken when I see Ezra and his alliance carefully walking down his slope. My heart hiccups. He's next.  
A wolf, large and fierce, steps from the bushes. I bite down on my tongue when the wolf reveals his own, blue and forked, that shoots straight through Ezra's body. A small shriek escapes my throat. It's really hot in here, isn't it? Keep awake, Serena, keep with it. Let the darkness consume you.

The cannons sound. The bloodbath is over. Challis Glenley, Stellan Kingsley, Odette Leith, Fay Amaris and Ezra Zinnia, all dead.

The scene shifts. I faintly see Hermes' bright smile in the shadows, but focus back on Ezra's two allies. What are they doing? The wolf comes into the view, stalking forward. Then, he leaps. Someone in the audience gasps, followed by another, as the District Seven boy defends his red-headed ally. A fatal slash across his stomach sends him falling after murdering the beast.

He's okay.

But he's not.

His partner is making something. I lean forward, the curious part of my brain wondering what's going on. I feel sick to my stomach; it's like I'm being the murderer by watching so intently. She creates something, grinds it up and forces her partner to drink it. As his eyes close, she fumbles with her boot and produces a knife.

His cannon sounds. Ewan Cole. It's not over, though, and acid scorches my throat when his ally takes the blade to him like some experiment.

The scene moves again. The quick changes makes my head hurt, but when I see the pristine sky and bountiful of acacia trees, I know that they're showing my progress. Me and Katey are sitting around, talking, nothing important but it shows the bond we were carefully crafting with my trust issues and Katey's hidden problems. I sadly smile; she was a good ally at the end of the day. The screen splits into quadruples now and my eyes shift from my screen to the next - revealing the District Eleven girl partnering up with the District Six boy - as well as the little kids from District Three following a herd of hulking animals towards water.

The last screen, however, makes me sick to my stomach once more. Katey's district partner, Colton, fighting off a snake to protect India. As he close as he succeeds, he falls unconscious. The camera pans out, revealing the Careers moving in from the horizon. When they notice them, wounded, they run with glee in their steps. Monsters, the lot of them. I dig my nails into my hand to remind me that I survived, that I won, that I beat them all and that I should be happy to have my life back at the very least... but it feels like I don't deserve it. They taunt India. Colton's unconscious. India bites back against Minerva and her district partner - one who I thought was better - takes Colton's life. India is crying. My heart is pulsating and I feel the tears heavily on my eyelids. A kick to India's head sends her unconscious and the mystery behind her drooping face is revealed.

I let out a shaky breath and Hermes' teeth zoom from the shadows. "Everything alright there, Victor?" he says, sickly sweet, empathizing the word Victor.

"P-Perfect." I struggle out.

He fades again. The screen shifts. Large, pink birds attack District Eleven and District Six. They fight them away valiantly but the boy, he's seriously injured, a hole shot through the leg. He falls. He's wounded. I don't even know his name properly. The girl stands out and reveals a sad smile. Then, sullen and quiet, she walks away.

My heart freezes when I notice me and Katey not far from said watering hole. The girl notices and her face flashes into concentration. She waits, stalking, ready, before leaping out into me and Katey. I strain my eyes to watch when I want nothing more than to curl up into myself and cry. Crying is a weakness. It's a luxury that I don't deserve because when I have my life over others, why should I cry?

My sword finds her stomach. I did it for Katey. I killed her to save her, I remind myself, even though the thought makes my head thump. Lena Romero, 17th Place.

Lena. I'll remember you, Lena. The first kill and the first trip down a slippery slope of losing my humanity.

Percival is next. He's stalking someone from the bushes, but I can't quite tell. The camera moves and I hurriedly blink away more tears on my eyelashes - no more crying, Serena - as it's revealed to be Quinlan. He's hunting him for sport. Quinlan runs into Bracken, though, and is snared into a trap. Bracken would've let him down. He was rebellious and self-righteous, but he's not cruel. Instead, he walks away, and everything begins to blur as I realise the change in people.

Percival is out of the bushes. I hold my breath, expecting a decapitation, or maybe a slit throat to drain blood like we do for the cows in our district. Instead, he cuts the rope and allows Quinlan to gather a weapon before they parry. He's a sword-fighter at heart, Percival, and I already know Quinlan will die. It doesn't make the action any easier though and with a stab of his rapier, Quinlan joins the ever-growing pile of corpses.

I need a break. My legs are weak but I try to stand. Sunny's word drum in my ears, though, reminding me to play the part to wrap it up. I take a seat begrudgingly. I can't take this - I don't want to take this.

Who's next? I don't remember. Quinlan's death wasn't a shock, but it confused me. Outer districts were dropping like flies and me, Katey and Bracken were all that were left.

The scene reveals the watering hole and the two little District Three kids. Oh. My heart sinks; I can only see my small nephew in their place, innocent and young and unaware of the real danger. Wait a minute. The District Seven girl, the only other little girl, is with her. My heart plummets at that. They came together, banded together, not realising they were lambs to the slaughter in packs. The boy moves and leaves the two girls.

The water thrashes. Another squeal escapes my throat as a scaly monster sinks teeth into the District Three girl's ankle and starts to drag her back towards her watery grave. Screams erupt and damage my ears. I quickly clamp my hands over it and squeeze my eyes shut. Not children, I can't see them die. The screams break through hands and I tense, aching, a lump forming in my throat and attempts to suffocate me.

They cut off abruptly. I peel my eyes open, seeing the water run red and two innocent faces splattered in blood.

When I notice Minerva and the Careers once more, my heart tightens. Something inside of me clicks and, for some reason, I want to smile. I remember this. Three deaths, one after the other.

It's the outer Career that makes the first move. The storm has rolled in properly now, dark clouds shadowing the ground and suffocating the yellow grass. He leaps and attacks and things become hasty. The once glee I found in seeing this makes me feel guilty, and I shield my eyes away. I hear the screams and the fighting calls. The crowd is jittery, I can hear them, moving about and whispering between them. One cannon sounds followed by another almost instantly. One more, I think positively, berating myself for being emotionless. Oh. Wait. I wanted this, didn't I.

The last cannon sounds. I pull away, checking the grid at the bottom. Underneath Nova Watts is Ransom Denvir, and I instantly remember him as the soft boy from District Two. Anubis Cotton, the outer Career. Lastly is Fawn Asprey. I take a deep breath; I know what's about to happen and I'm not prepared for this either.

Me and Katey find India. I swallow thickly and claw at my tiny dress, begging for some sort of numbness. Taking the pills was suppose to heal me and I didn't take any! I shouldn't be feeling like this!

I have to watch though. Something inside of me yearns to know how I looked to the world, to Amelia and Landon and Callum and my parents.

The girl moves forward to India, sword poised. The camera catches a glimpse of their eyes. A cry escapes my lips. The girl - me - with eyes that detect no emotion as she takes another life willingly. I was a monster, like everyone said. I was no better than the Careers. My heart sinks when I realise that I've handed everyone more fuel when I was hoping to redeem myself.

The rain hammers down and I gasp, wanting to remember the rain on my heated skin. Katey is so fragile, and I liked that about her. She was humane and insecure and worried, much like me. She was real and I needed that. Then, Percival came along and ruined it. They show individual shots on the valiant fight that me and Katey put up, before he plunges the rapier into Katey's chest. My sword slices down and takes away one eye, leaving him wounded and bloodied. It pauses and the screen zooms in on me, flashes of emotion tracing myself before the darkness takes over. I can see it in my eyes; my pupils are wide and fearful, then they become hard and cruel. My sword finds Katey's chest and I twist, knuckles on fire and heart in pain, masked by the shadows that emerged from my brain.

I don't expect the springing of tears when I rewatch Katey's last breath escape her wrecked body. The pain, the emotions, it's all unexpected and sends my head reeling. Numbness, how I miss you. My heart aches as it moves onto the next victim, the District Six girl who likes to experiment. The camera catches her body within the dried, yellow grass, a knife carefully carving through an animal's fur. She must've killed it.

Her district partner is nearby, and you can hear the supressed giggle in her throat. He moves forward and her head turns. For a moment, her eyes are terrified because she's been caught... and then they snap dark. It catches me off-guard. A monster, just like me. She leaps forward, teeth bared, before he slams the mace into her flaming red mane.

The screen cuts as the boy looks distraught at killing his own partner.

Bracken.

My heart sinks as we watch his carve something into an acacia tree. I lace my fingers together and clench, a familiar sickness sinking in my chest. Me and him, we were the last ones. Who killed him? He probably went down in a fight, Bracken was moderately strong and cocky. But then, he starts stripping and someone in the audience whistles loudly - I feel the heat rise in my cheek, and I don't even know why. Probably because Bracken is now near naked - before he wades in the water. Carefully and precise, he pulls the blade to his wrist and I can't look, I just can't. I clench my teeth and fight the acid to stay in my stomach, but I know he's killing himself; the Games forced a hard-headed player to take his own life.

His cannon sounds. I choke back my cry, surprised that Bracken's death affected me so much. They made him commit suicide. Their pressure and unknown actually made someone so strong become so weak.

One by one, everyone is being ticked off the list. A sick game where the corpse count rises, all for my victory that makes me "great".

The little girl from District Seven appears with her new ally. The sight makes me smile; I let him go at the bloodbath, and if I didn't, he wouldn't be here. I done a good deed to counteract all the killing that I managed. A small action to cleanse my conscience. Then, it all crumbles; a black panther moves out. Everything feels in slow-motion as the little boy - the one I spared - throws a small electronic device that explodes. Black smoke filters through the air, blood and body parts showering down on the two small children. Small children, drenched in blood and surrounded by limbs... the sight makes me want to gag and even someone in the audience retches.

Her body stirs and through the parted blackness, she rises slowly. She's alive! Then how does she die? The screen fast-forwards, and my eyebrows knit. They're in a bush when another animal leaps and catches her in his teeth. I hold back the shriek in my throat as she's dragged towards her doom. But, then, rather than die at the hands of the beast, her ally throws another explosive at her. A boom resounds in the air, followed by her cannon. The screen moves fast now, revealing Percival standing opposite the boy from District One. The stand-off seems tense and I just know that this must've been a highlight to the monstrous Capitol.

The fight begins, but I can barely watch. I hear the howling and fighting chants, metal cutting air and the thud of someone hitting the other. I shield my eyes away when District One snaps Percival's finger, but he doesn't even flinch, making the action more unnerving than it would've been.

With eyes closed, I hear the cannon and know that District One is dead. I don't want to know how or why. He was a Career, but seemed nicer; Percival should've died ages ago, but like a robot, he kept coming back around, unaffected by the disaster and bloodshed he's witnessed thus far.

Final five. I look down at the grid, and underneath Kit Felix, four spaces are waiting to be filled. I know the order but I don't know why. I don't even know if I want to know why, all I can think about is the numbness that's taken far too long to smother me and make this easy.

It's tormenting and I feel weak and dependant on something that destroyed my humanity.

The little boy does next as the feast is announced. I watched his face dance in the sky the moment me, Minerva and Percival faced-off. He's at the top of the rocks when Minerva's shadow creeps out from the Cornucopia. I close my eyes but the distinct bang of the another explosive is enough for me to open my eyes. He's crawling along the rocks as Minerva pierces his chest with her scythe.

District Six is next. I feel terrible, like I should honor their deaths, but I just want this over with. I want to go back to the district that hates me, just so I can get away from the horrors. If the numbness won't take me, I'll have to find another solution. I'm sure Rhona could hook me up with something. His death, however, is the most gruesome but ironic. A mother lion - probably the one of the cub he crushed at the beginning - maims him until he's nothing more than a bloody pulp.

"Final Three!" Hermes sing-songs from the darkness.

He can only be cheery because he hasn't experienced it. The adrenaline takes over, and at this point, you've got it in your head that you could win... until you meet your opponents and finds out that both are trained Careers, practiced to kill, and then you realise that you're probably as good as dead. The Capitol aren't cheering for you; they're cheering for your blood because you aren't a favourite.

I appear on screen again. Me, Percival and Minerva all edge closer when the table rises and chaos ensues. I don't remember anything and really, I try not to look. I know we fight - I know Minvera's item is the needle - but everything else is a blur and I'm thankful for that. I won't have to remember my desperate and valiant attempt at keeping together and trying to win. When I look through my sweaty fingers, I watch me kill Percival with ease; the only death I partially enjoyed and don't regret.

Then, me and Minerva face-off. The fight feels like hours, but I gain the upper hand and Minerva falls and the needle is just there and her eyes are asking, begging, and I do it without a second thought because I can live, I can return, and I now I'm here and I don't want to be.

My victory is announced.

But I don't feel like a winner.

* * *

"Well, well, well, it's been a long time," Rhona drawls, perched up against the brick wall, masked by shadows. "I didn't think you'd survive."

"I didn't think I would either," I admit truthfully. "But I wanted to come home and patch things up. Make amends, you know."

She moves from her place, the light revealing her blackened hair. "And collect some drugs, obviously," she smirks, the power surge probably making her feel important. "You got the cash?"

As Rhona moves forward, I dip my hand into my pocket to collect the payment. She seems content and fishes out the drugs with ease; four small, white pills that'll fix me right up. She moves closer, and within reach, I pull forth the cattle prod. Rhona is oblivious as I crack the weapon across her forehead. She screams, flying to the floor and I tower over her. My little pills scatter on the wet gravel, but I can count each of them.

"Y-You... y-you bitch!" she howls.

"Correction," I state clearly, clicking the button and allowing the electricity flow through the weapon. "I'm a monster. The same monster that you declared I was as you ripped my life away from me."

Her head is bleeding and her pupils are smaller. Doubt and guilt creeps into my mind, but I hold strong. "You won't get away with this," she hisses. "I'll ruin your life. I'll turn everyone against you again, the Capitol will have to murder you and everyone who shares your filthy blood."

"That's where you're wrong. I've been to hell and back, and I've had enough of you thinking you have control over me. I'll gain my life back and you'll have nothing."

"You just asked for pills from me, I doubt you have that much control," she seethes, glancing at the tablets. "Get off your high horse and remember you were nothing before me and still are."

I move the cattle prod closer, electricity eagerly snapping towards her raw skin. "Leave me alone from now on, otherwise I'll have no choice. I've killed. I'm a murderer, a monster, and you'd be an idiot to think you have control over me anymore."

With that, I turn around and walk away, feeling a sense of accomplishment and the first step to taking my life back. I hear Rhona shuffle before she runs toward. As quick as a flash, I spin around and jab the electrical staff into her stomach. She howls, face contorting from pain as she recoils quickly.

I look down at her squirming form, so weak and powerless like I used to feel under her thumb. "As I said, leave me alone. If you don't, I'll be sure to take you to hell where you belong." I threaten.

I can rebuild myself. Rebuild everything I used to have. I walk away, tucking the cattle prod back into the deep pocket of my jacket. The arena, Katey, India, Percival, Minerva, Lena, Bracken and the rest have all taught me something: to appreciate my life and not let someone try and take control.

Because I've been to hell and back, and it's made me stronger.

* * *

**Dark Side by Kelly Clarkson.**

* * *

**********The blog for this story is _wild one hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths are notified here.**

**********The obituaries have been posted named _'Remember, Remember'_. Learn about all the tributes and what happened to their bodies. You'll notice that Serena doesn't have one, but that's because her future is unknown. Of course, we know she's a mentor in Lost!**

**********Now that's done, you have some more questions I'd love for you to answer:**

_-Thoughts on the obituaries?_

_-Did you enjoy Wild One overall?_

_-Thoughts on the writing, plots, characters in general, arena in general, basically anything?_

_-Thoughts on the blog titles?_

* * *

**********That is finally the end to Wild One. Me and this story, we've had a troubled relationship where I've gone through moments of wanting to scrap the entire thing. The characters were great but my plots were weak. I got carried away, and almost lost where I was heading.**

**********Each of these characters were brilliant and unforgettable. **

**********I want to thank all of the submitters for their wonderful creations, the reviewers for being a good support despite my struggle, the readers for keeping the view count high consistently and being unknown support, the favourites and followers and my friends, for inspiring me with their constant pestering to update.**

**********Also, if anyone is interested: on my Collection of the Damned blog for the Victors, I've done another post which includes a map of Panem with where the districts are, as well as some information about why certain districts are neighbouring to others using canon and EsmeraldaVerse information. Check it out!**

**********This, finally, is the end to Wild One!**


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